Shades
by Trenchcoatkitten
Summary: Dean had never heard of the band called Novak. But when their bassist, Gabriel, shows up in his Chemistry class and more than half of the girls (And Sam) almost faint, will Dean start to fall for their lyrics, or maybe even the lead singer? Or will the confusing, new kid at school convince him that maybe Castiel Novak is not everything people think he is? Musician!Cas Tattooed!Cas
1. Chapter 1

The first day Gabriel Novak came to Sioux Falls High School, everyone whispered, some people screamed, and three girls fainted in Dean's first hour Chemistry class. Several other kids showed up that day as well, a boy named Alfie and a boy named Jimmy, but nobody paid attention to them like they paid attention to Gabriel. Gabriel waltzed into Dean's first hour ten minutes late like he owned the place and sat down in the closest open desk, which happened to be right next to Dean, and Dean had a moment to wonder who the hell is that before there were twenty-some-odd girls screaming and a couple of them hyperventilating until they hit the floor.

Dean had never heard of Novak. He just furrowed his brows as people whispered the word throughout the whole day, girls passing by him, boys passing by him, even some of the teachers.

And then Sam.

"Did you hear about Gabriel?" His younger brother demanded as he slammed the Impala's passenger side door shut behind him.

"Careful on my baby. Why is everyone talking about him? I don't understand."

"You've never heard of Novak?" Sam demanded, his hand coming down hard on the dashboard. Dean slapped at it until he pulled it back. "I can't believe this." He yanked out the AUX cord and plugged his phone in, scrolling through his music before his finger tapped on a song, and suddenly music was blasting through the speakers.

"What is Novak?" He demanded over the sounds of electric guitar. He had to admit, whoever was playing that was damned good.

"They're a band. And they're AMAZING. Gabriel is the bassist and there's a guy named Lucifer on the drums but they call him Lu or Lucy and Anna is on the keyboard or the guitar and the lead singer and lead guitarist is named Castiel," Sam ranted, his voice just barely heard over the lead guitar. "They're all named after Angels which is pretty cool, and they're all siblings, which means their last name is all Novak. That's why they're called that."

"How old is Gabriel?" Dean demanded. If they were a band, why was Gabriel even still in high school?

"He's seventeen and the youngest in the band. Then it's Castiel, who's like eighteen I think, and then Anna at twenty and Lucifer at twenty four."

"Their parents must have been busy." Dean commented as the guitars merged seamlessly with the keyboard and drums.

"Oh that's not even all of them. They also have a couple other siblings, Samandriel and Rachel and Michael. Then they adopted Rafael and Uriel so they all live together before they made the band and started touring. And god they're so good. Their lyrics are gorgeous."

Sam stopped talking, but only to turn up the sound right as a voice began to sing, smooth and rough and beautiful all at the same time.

_Oh, is it you,_

_The falling tears like silk,_

_Oh oh, is it you,_

_When you fall apart in my arms, _

_And the misfortune of you and your wrongs, _

_All under my bed hiding from harm._

"Which one is-"

"This is Castiel. Shut up."

_So touch up your makeup dear, _

_And tell me all about your fears. _

_When your hand is under my shirt, _

_And I wait patiently for your calling, _

_So choose between A, B or C, _

_It's free will,_

_But it's still _

_A recipe._

Dean had to admit they were really good. The voice that joined the lead singer's was rougher and just added to the affect.

They finished the song (which was called Is it You) and they managed to listen to another whole song by them too, called Shards, which was about a girl who was a glass figurine who broke into a thousand pieces and the sinner who put her back together again. Dean would never admit it, but he might have teared up. But then they were home, and Dean turned off the Impala and headed inside.

He heated up leftover pasta for himself and Sam, and then sent his younger brother to bed. He was only fifteen; old for a freshman, but Dean was almost nineteen, which was old for a senior. Their dad had been too late signing them up both times, and so they each had to wait a year longer than they should have. Ever since their mom had died their dad seemed unable to really do anything right. Or sober.

Dean laid in bed and stared at the ceiling before he realized he had forgotten to turn the light off. But he couldn't find the strength or even get himself to care about it, so he closed his eyes and let lyrics scroll behind his lids.

_The glass that I find._

_Underneath the bed and rug,_

_Will never cease to be beautiful,_

_Jingling across the floor like pieces of a bloody puzzle, _

_All part of you, dear,_

_All shards of you. _

_And we know that it could be,_

_We know that it should be,_

_Know that it should._

Dean fell asleep hearing their voices in his mind.

Gabriel didn't talk to people. He lounged in his chair and smirked at anyone who tried to talk to him. After a while Dean started to think that he didn't speak at all, except why would he be in a band if he didn't speak, but then Mrs. Maloney assigned a partner project, and made them work with the person who sat next to them. Dean hesitantly glanced at Gabriel, and almost had a heart attack when the boy was staring right at him, eyebrows raised. Dean had to admit, his eyes were really pretty.

"Dean, right?"

Dean nodded, ignoring the jealous glances from almost every girl in the class. "And you're Gabriel?"

Gabriel laughed. Full out laughed, and it scared the crap out of Dean because it was so unexpected. "Like you didn't know," Gabriel snorted. "Everyone knows me. Frankly it pisses me off sometimes. Nobody really tries, you know? Probably shoulda disguised myself better though. Like..." He trailed off into mumbling, quiet enough that Dean couldn't understand him. He wasn't about to ask. He wasn't sure where boundaries were with this guy.

"Yeah. So um, my house or yours?" Dean asked, scribbling his own name and Gabriel's down on the paper.

"I'm surprised you're not itching to see my house, I know everyone else is," Gabriel commented, tapping his pencil against his thumb. "You know, I think I like you, Dean. My house? We have a big dining room table. You know, nine kids and all. Gotta be pretty big."

"Um, yeah, okay. That sounds alright."

"I could give you a ride, or..."

"Oh," Dean said, realizing the problem. "No, I gotta drive my brother home. If you just give me your address I could meet you there."

Gabriel pursed his lips, tapping his pencil against his nose now. "Nah, that's not going to work. See, I don't know my address. So I... How about I go with you, and direct you there after you drop off your brother?"

This was getting much too complicated, but Dean tried to keep up. "What about your car?"

"That's okay I drive with- Uh, I carpool. Someone else can drive it home."

"Oh."

"Okay."

"Okay, I'll meet you in the senior lot after school? My car is the black Impala."

"Oh, that beauty is yours? She's in great shape. You must take good care of her."

Dean melted, glad that someone could appreciate Baby as much as he could. "Yeah," he said lovingly, slouching into his seat and picturing her. "I've built her up from the ground a few times. I know everything about her."

"Man, I wish I had a car like that. Where'd you get her?"

"My dad. He bought it off a lot when he was only twenty-something. Treated her like shit for a while but I fixed her when I inherited her."

"Oh," Gabriel said, his eyebrows raising, "is your dad...?"

"Oh, no!" Dean said instantly, realizing that he had made it seem like his dad was dead. "No, no. My mom is gone but my dad doesn't drive anymore, he takes the train and stuff. He got his license taken away."

"Oh." Gabriel said. "Yeah. My dad is. Dead, I mean. And my moms a bitch."

Dean nodded, understanding. Gabriel nodded too, and they sat in a comfortable silence until the bell rang.

"I'll see you at the Impala," Gabriel said as he walked off.

Dean watched him go, realizing only after he had disappeared that he had just been speaking to someone famous. It had managed to totally slip his mind.

A hand slammed into his elbow, gripping onto his sleeve and scaring him out of his thoughts. "Dean!" It was Sam, just out from the class across the hall. "Were you just talking to Gabriel?"

"Uh, yeah. We're giving him a ride home cause I'm going to their house."

"What?" Sam demanded. They had been listening to nothing but Novak on the rides to and from school, and Dean listened the whole time to Sam fangirling. He knew a lot more about the band than he was going to admit, but mostly about Gabriel. Apparently Sam was harboring a bit of a crush, though he probably wasn't going to admit it either. Dean knew that his brother was attracted to boys as well as girls, Jesus, he grew up with him. Of course he knew. He knew the kid better than he knew himself.

"Dean, what." Sam demanded, tugging on his sleeve. "Do you mean he's driving in the Impala with us?"

Dean nodded, grinning. "Better find some different music to play, Sammy," he joked, ruffling his brothers hair and ignoring the boy's terrified expression. "Come on, let's go to class."

Dean was nervous, but not nearly as nervous as Sam was. He offered to sit in the back, even though he never sat in the back, and he set himself right in the very middle, to 'avoid judgment' as he said to Dean. The older Winchester rolled his eyes and tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, eyes scanning for Gabriel.

The boy arrived five minutes later, his bag slung over his shoulder, sauntering along with a taller boy. Looking at Gabriel in comparison to the boy, he was actually quite short. Dean had never really noticed, the majority of his encounters with him they had both been sitting down, and it was a little bit surprising.

Gabriel walked up and climbed in without saying anything, until he was successful buckled in and he turned to see who was in the back.

"You must be the brother," He said, and Dean couldn't be sure but he thought that Gabriel might have winked at Sam.

Sam went red all the way from his hairline to the collar of his T-shirt. "Uh, yeah. I'm Sam."

"Sammy," Gabriel decided instantly as Dean backed out of the parking spot and pulled onto the street.

"Yeah. Gabriel. Or Gabe? Uh, Gabe?"

"Gabe is what all the girls call me. You can call me that if you willing to deal with what comes with it." He hadn't turned back to Dean once, and Dean was trying not to laugh.

"Uh, w-what, you, uh, what does, who, I mean-"

Gabriel cut him off with a laugh. "Deep breath, Sammy." Gabriel chuckled, his eyes still on Sam. "Just don't be surprised if I flirt with ya."

Dean was pretty sure that his brother stopped breathing. He could hear him squeaking, like he was trying to get words out, but he couldn't manage it. It was incredibly entertaining. He had never seen his brother like this.

Sam didn't regain his ability to speak for the rest of the ride, and Gabriel would say little things like "That shade of red really suits your face," or "I think your face is almost at the color of your shirt, now," and even going as far as cheesy pick up lines like "Are you Little Ceasers pizza? Because you're hot and I'm ready," just to see the boy blush even redder.

Dean stopped in front of their house and rolled down his window to call out. "Sammy?"

"Yeah?" The boy squeaked, turning around. He looked like he had just seen a ghost.

"I'll text you about when I'm coming home and such. Okay?"

The boy nodded slowly and turned back around, his movements slow and almost terrified.

Dean chuckled as he drove off, Gabriel giving him instructions.

Finally Gabriel spoke, and said, "Is he usually like that? Did I scare him off?"

Dean couldn't help but laugh. "Nah. He just wasn't expecting it. I think you shocked him more than anything else." he almost added that Sam talked about him a lot, but decided against it. His brother deserved someone who would be good to him, someone who would respect him and things he wanted to do, and for some reason he wasn't sure that it was Gabriel. He seemed like the kind of guy who wouldn't respect, wouldn't keep the boundaries that Sam wanted to keep. And Dean didn't want that for his brother. So he kept his mouth shut.

Somehow Gabriel looked like he knew what Dean was thinking, but he didn't say anything. He just directed him towards their house, and finally pointed it out when they get close enough.

"Jesus," Dean breathed, leaning over the steering wheel to look at the house.

The house was gigantic, cream colored with maroon-ish accents. The grass was all dead and weedy, the walkway slicing through it like a snake, leaving a trail of cement behind. The house was two stories, and easily could have fit Dean's house at least three times, if not four, inside. There was a garage but the door looked as if it had been permanently dented shut. A large van sat in the driveway, and the street was lined with cars, even though there weren't a ton of houses around.

Gabriel jumped out of the car and left Dean to follow, opening the large front door and waiting for him to come inside.

The entryway was huge. He had to step around a hat rack that was housing probably a hundred jackets and a pair of black skinny jeans. He couldn't even begin to fathom why anyone would need a house this big as he followed Gabriel through a large open living area with a fireplace, wrap around couch that could probably fit eight or ten people, and a GINORMOUS flat screen TV, above a killer stereo system. They walked into a giant dining hall and Gabriel dumped his bag, collapsing into one of the chairs.

"Sit down," he offered, tossing his feet up on the table. "We're making a poster, right?"

Dean nodded, awkwardly sitting on the edge of one of the chairs. "We hafta make a habitat thingy," he said eloquently, his fingers tracing the wood grain on the edge of the table.

"Here, there's posters in the pantry. One sec," he said, jumping up and bounding off, leaving Dean alone at the table, wide-eyed and terrified. He took a deep breath and tried to seem passive just in case someone was to walk in, but he was having trouble getting himself calm.

The front door slammed, making Dean jump out of his skin, and someone shouted from the entryway, "**WE'RE HOME AND I'M TAKING MY DAMN CLOTHES OFF!** God, going there is fucking stupid. Why do we even go? It's not like it matters. I could spend my whole life without going there another day, and I wouldn't be at a loss. MOM, CAN I STAY HOME TOMORROW? IM SICK. Of this shit."

The voice, which had been coming from the hall for most of the speech, began to travel through the living room, and Dean had a moment of panic. He wasn't sure how to alert them that he was here.

"Just take a deep breath, Castiel," a small voice said, and there was sound of a scuffle. "Eep!"

"You couldn't hold up in a fight against me like if you ever-" the boy cut off as he rounded the corner and his eyes landed on Dean, who was twisted around in his seat, eyebrows raised and completely at a loss for what to do.

Castiel Novak was, to put it simply, fucking gorgeous. He was halfway through pulling on a pair of black skinny jeans, probably the pair that had been hanging on the hat rack. But other than a pair of white and black boxers, he wasn't wearing anything. His shoulders and upper body were hard and muscled, sinewy like he spent a lot of time working them. And along with that, they were covered in tattoos, a cross and a rope that looped into a noose and a crapload of others that Dean didn't have time to look at, because the boy grabbed the bro-tank that the shorter boy behind him had been holding up and yanked it on, dragging his pants up and buttoning them too. He could still see a lot of the tattoos, but he was very distracted. Dean would've looked away to be modest and respectful, but he couldn't. And it was all because of this guy's stupid eyes. They were this ridiculous shade of blue, set deep in his face, above the bags from sleepless nights. They practically glowed, the blue so sharp it might as well have been drawn there, and they were focused straight on Dean. Castiel's lips were parted slightly, and Dean could see that he had caught the very tip of his tongue with his front teeth.

Castiel was the one who regained himself first, his eyebrows dropping until he looked confused and a little bit offended. "Who the fuck are you? Why are you in our house?"

"I'm, uh," Dean stammered, "Dean Winchester. I'm here cause um-"

"Chemistry project," Gabriel said, returning with a poster, a pack of pens and a lollipop in his mouth. "Sorry Cassie, forgot to tell you. You didn't make it to naked, did you?"

"No," Castiel said, walking past the table into the kitchen. Dean could see his back as he opened the fridge and yanked out a can of something. "You could've warned me. And stop calling me that."

"Nope. And I'll try next time. We practicing when Anna gets home?"

"Anna's been home all day," the other boy, who Dean hadn't really looked at, chirped. "I think she's upstairs with the others. I'll go see," he volunteered, and then he was gone before Dean could look at him.

Castiel rolled his eyes and chuckled. "I let Samandriel have my soda today. I probably won't do that anymore."

"Not the greatest idea," Gabriel allowed, beginning the border on the poster. "Hey Dean, hand me the blue, would you?"

They began to work diligently, and Dean couldn't decide if Gabriel was working because he wanted Dean out of the house or if it was because of something else. Castiel awkwardly hovered for a few minutes before disappearing upstairs and reappearing again with a guitar to flop down on the couch behind them with. He strummed and sang quietly, just enough for Dean to hear him, but not enough to be able to make out words. His voice was beautiful. It was like nothing he could describe, and it was even better in real life, rather than hearing it over the stereo in the Impala or even through his phone's tiny speakers at three in the morning the one night that his resolve crumbled on his tenth swallow of whiskey and he looked the band up.

People bustled by, but Dean didn't want to stop working and look up, because he was afraid Gabriel would be mad at him. He wasn't sure what to make of the kid.

They worked for a good two hours, until it got late enough that Dean was ignoring his grumbling stomach and starting to worry about what he was going to make for dinner.

Castiel began to strum a song that was a little bit familiar. Dean couldn't put his finger on it, but then Castiel began to sing quietly, and he stopped thinking.

_"Hello there, the angel from my nightmare,  
><em>

_The shadow in the background of the morgue,  
><em>

_The unsuspecting victim of darkness in the valley,  
><em>

_We can live like Jack and Sally if we want,"_

It was amazing. It was indescribable. Now that Dean could really hear his voice instead of just a murmur, he felt the breath torn out of his lungs.

_"Where you can always find me,  
><em>

_We'll have Halloween on Christmas,  
><em>

_And in the night we'll wish this never ends,_

_We'll wish this never ends,"_

Castiel paused, and Dean jumped as suddenly there was a voice that wasn't Castiel's coming from right next to him, and his face snapped towards Gabriel to find his lips moving without looking up from the project.

"_I miss you, miss you._

_I miss you, miss you."_

There was a laugh from Castiel in the other room, and then the guitar grew louder, appearing with the singer in the doorway. He began to sing again, leaning his head back and belting out like there was no tomorrow. It was spectacular.

_"Where are you? and I'm so sorry,_

_I cannot sleep, I cannot dream tonight,_

_I need somebody and always,  
><em>

_This sick strange darkness,  
><em>

_Comes creeping on so haunting every time,"_

He dropped his head and smiled, trying to sing through his smile, and marring the lyrics a bit, but not enough to damage the splendor of the song. 

_"And as I stared I counted,  
><em>

_The webs from all the spiders,  
><em>

_Catching things and eating their insides._

_Like indecision to call you,  
><em>

_And hear your voice of treason,_

_Will you come home, and stop this pain tonight?"  
><em>

Gabriel laughed and belted out to match Castiel;

_"Stop this pain tonight!"_

Castiel danced around the table, singing loudly.

"Don't waste your time on me you're already the voice inside my head,"

_"I miss you, miss you," _Gabriel added.

_"Don't waste your time on me you're already_

_The voice inside my head."_

_"I miss you, miss you."_

They repeated the chorus a couple more times, until it faded out, Gabriel repeating his one line over and over.

_"I miss you, I miss you. _

_I miss you, I miss you._

_I miss you, I miss you."__  
><em>

There was a moment of silence, and then several people bounded down the stairs at once, some requesting songs and some asking for it again and one of them even asking them to shut the _hell up_ for _five_ minutes, _Jesus Christ_. Dean had to count twice, but he was pretty sure that there were five additional people in the room. But then as abruptly as they had arrived, they were gone, taking Castiel with them.

"Looks like we're done," Gabriel commented, and Dean nodded.

"I have to make dinner for my brother, I should go. Thanks, uh, thanks for having me."

Gabriel laughed. "No problem. Tell that brother of yours that I said hi, won't you?" 

Dean tried not to laugh and nodded, hurrying out the front door and into the Impala to drive home. Sam was waiting in the den when he got home, his feet up on the coffee table, and he jumped ten feet when Dean got home, scrambling up to lean over the back of the couch.

"How was it? Did you meet anyone? Was it big? Was there music? Did they look rich? Did you meet their mom? I heard she's terrible. Is she terrible?" 

Dean laughed, ruffling his little brother's hair, ignoring his attempt to swat his hand away. He headed towards the kitchen with plans to throw something together for them, hearing Sam jump over the couch and scurry after him. "It went fine, Sammy. Yes, there was singing. Yes, It was great." He could hear Sam gearing up to ask another question, so he chuckled, "Gabriel says hi, by the way."

Sam choked up and leaned against the table, clutching at his shirt. "No."

Dean laughed, his shoulders shaking. "Yes. Not making it up, I promise."

"Oh my god," Sam laughed breathlessly, collapsing into a chair. "Oh, my god." 

"Fangirl," Dean coughed into his elbow, trying to maybe pass it off as a tickle in his throat. Sam lunged at him, face red, and wrestled him to the ground. He had barely gotten Dean pinned before the older boy flipped them over and held Sam down, bopping him on the forehead with a spatula. "I win. Now go take a shower while I make dinner. You smell like ass."


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey :) Thanks for the great response to Chapter one. I know it's been a few weeks, however I have been sick and I have been unable to write very much. This wait is longer than most of them will be, I'll try to upload every Thursday or Friday. Keep the love coming guys, it keeps me motivated. **

Gabriel started interacting with Dean during class after that day. Just little things, like a chuckle and a little comment when the teacher said something dumb, or sometimes he would point out something about someone in the class. Once he came in and ranted about some asshole in the parking lot. Another time he asked if Sam ever talked about him. Two weeks passed before their Chem teacher sent them to their lab tables with their partners with an assignment, and Gabriel grabbed it first and started scribbling looking a bit too angry.

Dean hesitated. He didn't usually start the conversations, but he figured this time it would be okay. At least until he knew the guy a little better. "What's up?"

"Hm?"

"Well normally you don't work. Normally you let me do the work. Which I'm fine with, I guess." He added quickly. "I need to pass this class, I can't fail it again."

"Oh, that. Eh, I'm just frustrated, I guess. Need a distraction, and I can't play my bass while we're locked in this hellhole. So I've got work or nothing at all."

Dean shifted onto the stool next to the boy, tapping his pen against his fingers, index and thumb, back and forth. He made sure not to look at Gabriel. "You wanna talk about it?"

The musician didn't look up, just kept scribbling. But after a moment he said, "It's Castiel. He hates it here. He's always hated it here. He wants to go on tour, or even just hit the road in the van and see if we can find any gigs. But... Well Michael was pretty mad that he would suggest breaking up the family again. And Nick instantly butted heads with him, because that's what Nick does, he fights with Michael."

"Nick?"

"Lucifer. It's his middle name so that's what we call him at home, or Lu or Lucy sometimes. Anyways now that's all anyone can talk about at dinner and it keeps making Mom mad and Castiel won't talk to me and I don't know how much longer I can take-"

Gabriel's pen cracked in half in his hand. The ink splattered across the table, all over his shirt and jeans and the paper he had been working on. "Fuck," he said quietly, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes.

"I'm going to take Gabriel to the bathroom," Dean said to the teacher, who had been coming over to see what had happened. She nodded and ushered them out the door, simultaneously grabbing a wad of paper towels to clean the desk up with. Dean walked two steps behind the boy, hands in his pockets, only there in case Gabriel needed to talk. It was a long, quiet walk, and Dean just kept thinking about all the things he could say but never would. "Hey man," he finally managed once they were right outside the boys' room. "I'm going to be right out here. I'll give you a minute, huh? I'll be here if you need to talk."

Gabriel nodded and kicked the door open, letting it fall closed behind him. Dean leaned against the wall of the building, looking up at the sky. It was gloomy and overcast, like it was hiding from something. He liked this weather, though. It meant he could wear layers, and he liked layers. They were very-

"You lost, or just like staring at the sky?" A voice said, and he jumped. There was a boy, leaned up against the bricks probably twenty feet away. He looked as if he had just jumped down from the fence that enclosed the field next to the building. He was wearing a whole suit ensemble, slacks, button up, coat and tie, and a trench coat, along with black sunglasses that covered his eyes and a lot of his cheekbones. He wore a simple grey beanie tucked over his ears, and some sort of metal thing dangled from between his lips. Dean stared at it, but he couldn't figure out what it was.

"Just waiting for a friend. What's that you got?" He asked, motioning to the metal thing. The boy pulled it out, spinning it in his fingers before popping it between his lips again and breathing in. Dean watched, confused, as he held his breath for a moment, and then smoke billowed out through his nose.

"Vape pen," the boy said, tapping it against his lip. "Tastes like cherry."

Dean lowered his eyebrows a little bit. Why? "Does it have nicotine in it? Weed?"

"No. Just tastes good. I mean, you can get the ones that do have nicotine or weed in them. I just like these better. It's a better habit to be in. Better for the throat, you know?" He coughed, like it would help Dean understand. He didn't, but he didn't say anything, just watched as the boy breathed in again, holding it for longer this time. Then he held it out towards Dean. "You wanna try?" Smoke poured from his mouth with the words. He almost looked like a painting, for some reason. Dean wanted to draw him. With his oversized trench coat and the black shades covering his eyes and that grey beanie. He wondered if it would be weird to ask him if he could take a picture of him.

The boy wiggled the contraption, his eyebrows rising. Dean had forgotten he was waiting for an answer. "Oh, ah, no, thanks. Not my thing." The boy shrugged and put it back between his own lips, his head swiveling to look around for teachers. The way he moved made Dean want to move closer. It was familiar, but he couldn't place where it was familiar from. "Hey," Dean said. "You're pretty familiar. What's your name?"

"Jimmy," the boy said. "I know I'm familiar. They say I look just like my cousin. Castiel Novak? Sometimes Naomi would say we could pass as brothers."

It wasn't just the way he looked, but Dean let it slide. "Naomi?"

"My aunt. The Novak mother. Wow, you don't know anything about that family, do you? How can you live in this town and not know about them?" He had turned his body, leaning on the brick with his elbow, completely engrossed in his conversation with Dean. The Winchester was getting the impression that he was staring intently at him, but he didn't know where to look, because of the stupid glasses. He settled with staring at his nose, and his lips. His lips were really chapped.

"Just not paying attention, I guess. And just because they're famous and all doesn't mean everyone needs to know everything about them. If I was famous I wouldn't want everyone knowing my whole life. It's called personal life for a reason, you know? I guess I just don't agree with the whole thing. So I don't participate."

Jimmy looked impressed, as much as one could look impressed with his eyes completely hidden from sight, and leaned back against the brick. "You're different. Not like everyone else at this stupid school."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked, hesitant. It sounded like a compliment, but he couldn't be sure. It might have been sarcastic. And Dean wasn't about to stand around and be insulted by some guy in a trench coat. His legs tensed like he was about to spin around and walk away, or lunge for the boy's throat. He wasn't sure which one yet.

"I mean you're not obsessed with them. Sure their lyrics are good or whatever but it's not like they need to be the topic of every conversation, you know? I mean that's all anyone will talk to me about, and I keep it on the down low that I'm their cousin. I don't even... Like nobody knows, you know? So that means everyone talks about them all the time."

Dean smiled. "Yeah, they do. But put somebody even a little famous in a small town like Sioux Falls and you'll start an uproar. Put a whole family in and you'll start an uprising."

Jimmy pondered that for a second, taking another breath from his pen. "That's true, I guess. Just wish it could be different, you know? They're people too."

"Yeah, I understand." Dean nodded. "How do you even tell people to stop, though?" _You don't, _he thought sourly to himself. Nothing would stop them.

"You don't," Jimmy repeated his thoughts, shrugging. "Whatever. Either it'll wear off or they'll get used to it, you know?"

Dean wasn't sure if the 'they' was supposed to mean the Novaks or the rest of the people in the town, but it didn't really matter either way. Both ways made sense, so he didn't ask. They stood in silence for a while, until Dean began to truly worry for Gabriel inside the bathroom. What was he doing? He was just about to step inside to make sure he wasn't trying to drown himself in one of the toilets when Jimmy spoke.

"You're looking anxious. What's up with you?"

"Oh, just, my friend-your cousin, actually-I brought him out here to go to the bathroom and he's been in there a while, thought I might check on him…"

Jimmy's head swiveled towards the bathroom door, his eyebrows lowering until dean couldn't see them behind his glasses. He got the feeling that Jimmy liked to use his eyebrows. "Gabriel? You're friends with Gabriel?"

"Yeah, kinda. He's in my Chem class. He was stressing out about his family, broke a pen in class. I brought him out here to take a breather."

"Oh, yeah, he gets worked up pretty easily. And their family hasn't been entirely TV worthy recently. Lots of fighting-but that's what you get when you put that many kids under one roof. And when Naomi is gone all the time…" He trailed off, dropping his face.

Dean knew that look, even without knowing this kid, or being able to see his eyes. "Is it bad?" He wasn't sure exactly what he was referring to, but that was okay. He wanted to see the boy's reaction.

He just shrugged and turned his face away, but Dean could still see his pale cheeks reddening. "Let's just say, sometimes I'm a little ashamed to be related to such a dysfunctional family."

Dean shuffled closer, leaning up against the brick. He wasn't sure what to say, but he spoke anyways. "Do you have to deal with it a lot?"

The boy snorted. "Yeah. It's whatever, you know?" He took a deep breath from his pen and blew the smoke upwards, watching it disappear into the cloudy sky. "And you can kinda tell from their lyrics, you know? Broken people mean beautiful lyrics."

"Broken? Is it really that bad?"

"You don't know the half of it," the boy laughed a little, shoving his hands in the pockets of his trench coat. "Listen, you should go check on Gabriel. Make sure he's not drowning himself in one of the toilets or something," He chuckled, and Dean tried not to read too much into how much this boy was echoing his thoughts.

"Okay," Dean said, standing up straight and fixing his shirt, which had ridden up a little when it got caught on the bricks. "Hey, I'll see you around, alright?"

Jimmy smiled a little, letting out a breath that could have been a laugh. "Yeah, sure." And he turned his face upwards, and didn't move. Dean shuffled back and forth a little bit, wondering if he should move, but at that moment there was a crash from the direction of the bathroom that sent him running for the door.

"Gabriel?" He shouted, yanking the door out of his way and taking two steps inside. The boy looked up, surprised, from where he was leaning over the sink, both of his hands braced on the lip of it.

"What?" He asked, looking genuinely confused.

"What… there was a crash, and I thought…"

"Oh," Gabriel said, "No, I'm fine. Must have been in a classroom or something."

Dean nodded, stepping back out of the door. "You ready to go back?"

"Yeah, I think I am," The musician shrugged, following him and then stepping out in front to lead the way back to the classroom. Dean glanced behind him, but Jimmy was gone, the faint bouncing of the chainlink fence against its poles the only sign that he had even been there.

That night, Dean bought the full Novak album at the music store in town. It was called Thirteen, was thirteen dollars and had thirteen songs on it. Then he drove around town and listened to every one, even the ones he had heard before, until it got late enough that Sam started calling him and asking where he was and if he should just make dinner himself. Dean bought sandwiches (Sam's favorite because he could get all of that healthy junk on it) to apologize, even though Sam insisted it wasn't necessary, that he was just wondering, and they sat on the porch and ate them together. The older brother didn't mention the album. He wasn't sure why, but he didn't want to yet. Maybe he wanted it to be a surprise; maybe he wanted to keep them to himself for a while. It wasn't that he didn't like sharing things with Sammy, no; Sammy was probably his best friend. Sammy was definitely his best friend. He didn't have any other friends that were in town besides Jo and Ellen at the Roadhouse across town. He just didn't know if this felt right to be sharing with him. It felt too intimate, too weird to be listening to with him. He was sure that one day he would get over it, but maybe not until after he had memorized every lyric that the band had ever sung.

Dean stared at his ceiling that night, lost in thought. He wanted to turn on Thirteen, but he was trying to exhibit some self-control. It took only ten minutes before he was up and putting it into his player.

Your fingertips across my lips

_The press of heat along my sheet_

_The warmth of love from up above_

_Your voice like song I've known all along_

_You melt my heart like chocolate on a summer day_

_Your touch like honey_

_Touch like honey_

**Hey guys, thanks for reading. Hope you liked it. Leave me a little love, yeah? **

**Hugs and Kisses :)**

**-Sami**


	3. Chapter 3

**I know that I am two days late. I have been going through a lot. I am sorry. I am going out of town for a week to get away from things and I will update on Saturday. I have no doubt that the next chapter will be done by then. **

**SUPER extra loooooong chapter, to make up for the wait. :) (Also I wanted you to have Christmas since that just happened.) **

…

Christmas approached. Dean watched it grow closer and closer until eventually it was a week away, and Dean wasn't ready. Christmas meant calls from Dad and going to the Roadhouse and no school and nothing to distract him from his pathetically boring life. He had a present for Sammy, but was still completely present-less for Jo and Ellen and Dad. He wasn't even sure if he needed to get something for his dad. Was he even going to be home? Was he going to have to deal with his dad on Christmas?

But Sammy was excited, so he tried to be excited too. On the last day before school let out for break, he even wore a Santa hat. Sammy handed out candy canes and didn't stop smiling all day, and because Sammy was happy, Dean was happy. Nothing mattered to him more than Sammy, it was as simple as that.

In Chem, Gabriel couldn't even sit still. He tapped his candy cane against the desk until he broke, then he cleaned it up and got out a new one from his backpack. This repeated at _least_ five times until Dean finally said, "How many of those do you have in there?"

"Two hundred," Gabriel responded just as casually as if he was telling Dean that it was sunny today. "Why? Want one?"

"Uh, no, thanks. What's up with you today? You're so twitchy." Dean motioned to the bassist's hands, which were rapping against the desk like he was playing his instrument.

"Oh, man I'm so pumped," Gabriel grinned, his leg beginning to bounce. "Mom's gone. She went to New York for the holidays, and she took Rafael for some dumb conference. She won't be back until the second. So Cas and Nick decided to throw a party. Nick is gonna buy the alcohol and we're going to get wasted. There's going to be so many people there. All of our friends from touring and when we were young are coming in for the holiday and GOD it's going to be awesome. I am sooooo going to get laid." He leaned back in his chair, biting down on his candy cane, but suddenly he bolted upwards again. "Then we're going to have another one. Or two. Or six. And we're going to invite people as we go, like from the first party, the people that we liked and then slowly getting smaller and smaller until it's more like ten people, you know?"

"Ten? How many people are coming to the first party?" Dean demanded.

"I don't even know any more." Gabriel laughed. "Isn't that awesome?"

"Sounds fun," Dean laughed. It had been so long since he had been to a party. Last time was before they had settled here, and he had gotten so drunk he made out with some girl that he had been trying to avoid and was lost in the drama for a month. He enjoyed it though; it had been fun, besides the hangover.

"Dean."

He looked up, eyebrows raised. He had said something, but Dean had completely missed it. "Hm?" He asked, leaning forward a bit.

Gabriel chuckled. "I asked you if you wanted to come. You know, to the party. You could bring Sammy," he wiggled his eyebrows.

"Sam is fifteen," Dean blurted before he thought about it.

Gabriel didn't respond, just shrugged. When Dean didn't respond, Gabriel said, "So?"

"So he probably won't be drinking..." Dean mumbled, trailing off.

"That's fine. We're not monsters, Dean. We're not like force feed him pot or pour alcohol down his throat or anything. I mean, unless he's into that. But not without explicit consent."

Dean nodded. He wasn't sure why he thought they would be like all of the rock stars he had heard about, doing all of that crazy crap that Dean would hear about in all the news and online. Maybe just because they were famous. But how come they couldn't be real people? Just because people across the country knew about them didn't mean they had to throw parties where people died.

"Sure, yeah sure, I'll come, and I'll see if Sammy wants to come too. When is it?"

"Day before Christmas Eve. And it's a Christmas party so wear a hat or reindeer antlers or something. And feel free to bring friends, just text me how many you're bringing before you show up." He chuckled.

"I don't have your number," Dean mumbled, and Gabriel rolled his eyes, grabbing Dean's phone from his desk. Dean didn't stop them, because he figured Gabriel probably wouldn't do anything weird.

When Gabriel handed him his phone back, he had changed both of the backgrounds to different selfies of himself, and there was three different numbers added into his phone. "Who's 'Poon Slayer'?" Dean asked.

"That's me. Getting all the poon. Dry Season is Anna, and Blue Eyes White Dragon is Castiel."

"You gave me Anna and Castiel's number? And isn't Blue Eyes White Dragon a Yu-Gi-Oh card?" Dean asked, looking up from his phone.

Gabriel chuckled. "Yeah. Proud of you for knowing that reference, by the way, and I don't know. I gave you their numbers cause why not, man. If my phone's dead or something. Just in case. And I was bored and couldn't think of anything to do on your phone besides change your backgrounds and think of funny names for my siblings." Gabriel shrugged, and rummaged through his bag for another candy cane, cause he had finished his last one.

"Do you-" Dean started, but the bell rang, and he couldn't finish. Gabriel sauntered off, and Dean walked slowly to his next class. He wasn't sure if he was excited or not. How hardcore would this party be? Was it really something that he wanted to take Sammy to? Little Sam who still watched cartoons and needed Dean around to make him dinner at night? Did he belong at one of those parties?

His next class was Spanish, and the teacher made Mexican hot chocolate, so it was easy to distract himself. Chocolate was a weakness. Dean could eat it until his pants didn't fit anymore. That, and, of course, pie. He couldn't get enough pie. Just thinking of it made him want to have home baked pie again, so he ditched his fifth period class and drove down to the store to buy the ingredients to make at LEAST four pies, maybe close to five. Or six.

During last period, Dean most ducked out again to go home and bake pie. In fact. He was out of his classroom and leaning on the door of the impala when he stopped himself to re-evaluate. He debated for a minute, hesitating on his door.

"Hello, Dean. Lost?" A voice said, and his head snapped up. He expected teacher, and his shoulders tightened so he would be able to hold his own, but it wasn't. Instead of a district badge and a creepy combover Dean was greeted by shades and an oversized trench coat. And of course, that same grey beanie.

"Do you ever change your beanie?" Dean blurted before he thought about it, and Jimmy chuckled, leaning on the top of the Impala and blowing smoke across the surface. Normally he would tell someone to not do something like that to his baby, but for some reason he didn't. The smoke disappeared into the air.

"Yeah," Jimmy said, folding his arms on top of the car and leaning his chin on them. The pen dangled from between his lips, and Dean could see his own reflection in the boy's glasses. "I have a black one too. And a green one and a red one and a blue one." The pen bounced against the arm of his trench as he talked.

"How come I only ever see you wearing this one?" Dean laughed.

"You must only see me on Fridays," Jimmy responded, shifting his body to the side a little bit, like it was completely natural and made sense. Dean stared at him until he sighed. "I wear a different color every day. Black is Monday, then Green on Tuesday and Blue on Wednesday and Red on Thursday and then grey on Friday. Organization, man. That's where it's at." He said seriously, and Dean couldn't help but laugh. "Why are you laughing! I'm being completely serious."

"It's just funny," Dean chuckled. "You're like a girl."

"I am NOT like a girl, Dean!" He steamed, his cheeks flushing beet red. "I just like knowing I can get my stuff."

Dean chuckled again, leaning more on his car, mirroring Jimmy, except without putting his chin down. He glanced back towards his class, really not wanting to go back. He searched for something to keep him from going back while Jimmy took another breath from his pen.

"Do you have any siblings?" Dean asked, setting his chin down. Jimmy looked up, his eyebrows rising.

"Oh, uh, no. Just my cousins. They're practically like siblings though. I'm over there a lot." Smoke danced from his nostrils, and Dean watched it curl in front of his eyes. He had the urge to draw or paint him again, and just barely kept himself from asking if he could take a picture. He looked like art.

"Who's your favorite?" Dean asked, wiggling his eyebrows and trying to distract himself. "I know it's not a fair question, that's why I asked."

Jimmy laughed, blowing the rest of the smoke out his nose. "Probably Gabriel, I guess. Or Samandriel. I'm with him a lot and he's pretty cool so I guess he's one of my favorites. I just hate Rafael and Michael's pretty annoying. Can't make my mind up about Lucifer."

"There's also... God there's so many I can't even remember... Anna? And uh..."

"Uriel and Rachel," Jimmy filled in for him. "Uriel is kind of a dick. And Rachel is pretty nice but she's pretty annoying too. She's nineteen and thinks the world is all about her."

"What about Castiel?" Dean asked, realizing he hadn't said anything about the singer.

"Oh, I thought I said him after Samandriel." Jimmy said, chewing on the metal of his pen. "Castiel is pretty cool, I guess. He's more than people think, you know?"

"What do they think?" Dean asked, curious, and his back tweaked. "Ow. You wanna sit in the car?"

"You don't mind if I smoke? It'll smell like cherry."

"We'll just keep the windows down, and blow the smoke out the window, okay?" Dean said, unlocking the door and climbing in. Jimmy did the same on the other side, rolling his window down and turning to lean his back against the door. He sucked in a breath from the pen and leaned his head back, blowing his smoke straight up and out into the sky.

"What were we talking about?"

"Castiel, you said he's not what people think." Dean said, leaning over the boy to grab the metal flask from the glove compartment. He took a swig, leaning back against his own door. Jimmy just stared at him, as if he didn't want to answer the question.

"Oh, right. What's that, is it alcohol?"

"Yeah, it's whiskey." Dean said, offering it to him. Jimmy took it and smelled it, wrinkling his nose, which made his glasses ride up. He smashed them back down with his palm, taking a swig. "It's kind of strong."

He coughed, and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "Jesus. Do you drink that a lot?" Jimmy asked, tilting his head to the side. Dean shrugged, taking another swallow. "That's not good for you, especially stuff that strong," he pointed out.

"I don't feel the other stuff anymore. And it's not good for you to smoke everyday." Dean shot back, gesturing with the flask to the Vape pen.

"There's nothing in here but flavored water." Jimmy said. "That stuff will ruin your liver."

"I'm aware," Dean mumbled. "You don't need to tell me I have a drinking problem."

"Do you only drink alone?" Jimmy asked. He had taken the pen out of his mouth.

"No, I drink at parties and stuff too. Speaking of," he changed the subject, because he didn't like the direction this was going, "I'm going to your cousins' party over break."

"Oh?" Jimmy asked, raising his eyebrows. He seemed to understand why Dean was changing the subject, but didn't push it. "Are you," he mused, playing with his pen.

"What, why do you say it like that?" Dean asked. "Are they going to try to drug me? Cause I'm not afraid to punch someone out-"

"No, no," Jimmy interrupted him, waving the pen around as it got caught between two of his fingers. "It's just I was never explicitly invited and it irked me."

"Tell Gabriel and Castiel off," Dean laughed, nudging the boy with his boot. "Or rather, I could do it now. I have their numbers." He pulled his phone out of his pocket and pointed it at the boy.

"You have both of their numbers?" Jimmy asked. "How?"

"Gabriel put them in my phone. Also Anna. He named them weird things, and changed my background to his selfies."

"Sounds like Gabriel. Don't bother texting them. It's not worth it. I'll probably just show up, or maybe I won't even go," He mumbled. "Seeing everyone again is gonna be weird."

"Oh, you moved when they did?" Dean asked.

Jimmy nodded. "Yeah, we like to stick together as a family." He almost sounded like he was getting choked up, but Dean couldn't begin to fathom why. But then he snorted, and Dean realized he was sneering. "It's not like we're close. All we do is fight." He looked away and sucked in a deep breath from his pen.

"Hey, all families fight. At least..." Dean hesitated. He didn't talk about his family with friends much; let alone Vape-smoking boys that he had only met once. But something about this boy, his leg tucked under him looking like art with his trench coat wrapped up around him like some sort of present in the passenger seat of the Impala made him decide differently. "At least it's not like mine, man."

"What do you mean?" He asked, almost gently. He seemed to sense that it was a sensitive subject for the Winchester.

"My family... Well my mom died when I was really young. Like, four. She died in a nursery fire when Sammy-my brother-wasn't even a year yet. My dad kind of lost it, thinking it had been an arsonist, and began searching across the country for arsonists wanted by the law or whatever he could find. For a while he left us with our Uncle Bobby, not our real uncle but a better father figure than my dad ever was. Then when I was ten he... He was in his shop and a car fell off its tracks and..." Dean swallowed hard. He hadn't talked about this since it happened. Not even with past girlfriends. When they asked about his past he brushed it off and changed the subject or something. But he wanted to do this, for some reason. Jimmy stared at him levelly, calm and steady, simply waiting for him to go on. Dean, feeling the boy's eyes on him, took a deep breath and continued. "I was the one who found him like that. I'm just glad it wasn't Sam who did. It's something I'll never forget. And when Dad found out he... He broke a lot of stuff and got mad at me for not being there to help him or save him or something. I just stood there and took it. A fucking ten year old, being screamed at by his dad for not saving his stupid friend. I just... Ugh. Then Dad had nowhere to put us so he shoved us in the back of the Impala and took us with him. He said one day we'd go back to Bobby's, but we haven't yet. It's actually not too far from here, out off the highway about twenty miles. But we haven't gone back. I haven't been able to make myself go back, even though most of my junk is still there. Dad started drinking heavily and blaming us for everything. As soon as Sam got old enough to realize what was happening he stared yelling back, and soon enough it was a fight everyday. I mean everyday. Not a day passed that they didn't scream at each other. And I mean, Sammy was like eleven. We had been trying to go to school and stuff but it wasn't going over too well. I'd get kicked out or Dad would move us again and we'd have to start all over again. Finally just this last year Dad got in a wreck and got his license taken away for driving under the influence too many times. I stood up and refused to move anymore because I wanted Sammy to have a real high school experience. So Dad chose Bobby's old town, bought this shitty little house out past the mill, shoved us inside, and left on the next train out of town. I have no idea how he gets around out there, and really, I don't care. I hate him. I hate him so much. People say I have to love him because he's my dad, but really there's a point where he stops being your dad and starts just being an asshole who ruined your childhood and screams at your brother."

Jimmy nodded, but he didn't say anything. Dean wasn't sure he wanted him to. Finally he just reached out and set a hand on Dean's ankle, right above the boot, and smiled a little bit. And it was enough.

They sat in silence for a while, Dean drank and Jimmy smoked. After probably five minutes, Jimmy leaned forward and tapped at the stereo. "Mind if I...?"

"Go ahead," Dean said, turning the key in the ignition once so it would work. Jimmy turned it on, and all of a sudden he speakers were blasting Castiel's voice. Jimmy jumped three feet and dropped his pen, and Dean jumped, his arms instantly coming up to cover his face, and he elbowed the horn on the way up, resulting in another loud noise that made Jimmy jump again and slam his knee into the dashboard.

_Mark said he could hold his own head up _

_And share his mind _

_With the peeling paint on the bedroom wall. _

_One step ahead of the pack,_

_Of Marlboros,_

_Still, I don't believe he would take that fall._

_Those things will put you back some paychecks,_

_Set you back about a year or two, _

_There's a sick little suicide in all that we do, all that we do._

_And the ground downtown is a countdown,_

_No air anywhere in the area,_

_Suck back these take-home packs of euthanasia,_

_Youth in America..._

Jimmy dialed the volume knob down, laughing, and pretty hard at that. He rubbed at his knee while he retrieved his pen from the floor. "God that hurt. Do you always listen to Novak that loud?"

Dean, his face thoroughly red now, sputtered out, "I didn't-I mean I don't-Sammy just-I mean-"

Jimmy cut him off, still laughing his guts out, "Dude, stop trying to come up with an excuse. You just, I mean," he couldn't finish, he was laughing too hard.

It was unavoidable. He looked ridiculous, bent over at the waist laughing his lungs onto the floor of the Impala, and Dean couldn't help himself. As Jimmy straightened up, he lifted his phone and took a picture, and then quickly tucked his phone away again.

Jimmy turned and stared at him, squashing his glasses back onto his face and still laughing a little. "Did you just take a picture of me?"

Shit, caught. Lie! No, don't lie. Dean didn't know what to say, so what came out was, "I-Uh, you looked like art, man."

The boy's smile faded, but not all the way. The corners of his mouth tugged upwards as he said, "what?"

"Uh," Dean said eloquently, trying to figure out how to explain something he didn't understand himself. "You just, uh, when I look at you I just have this weird urge to draw you, like uh, I don't know. You look like art. Don't... Don't make me try to explain it." He mumbled, rubbing his face with a palm. He was afraid Jimmy would think he was weird and leave. He didn't bother putting any effort into why he was afraid of that.

But Jimmy just laughed. "Whatever, man. If you wanna draw me, you can."

"I can't draw that well," Dean mumbled, lying a little bit. He liked drawing. He wasn't terrible, but he wasn't amazing either.

"You're weird," He chuckled, taking a breath of his pen. "I like it."

Dean opened his mouth to respond, but right then the bell rang. Jimmy turned his head to look at the school. "Ah. Shit. I gotta get home. It was nice talking to you, though."

"Yeah, nice talking to you," Dean said back as the boy climbed out of the car.

"Hey. Draw that picture, and give it to me at the party." He said, leaning his head back through the window and grinning.

"What if you're not at the party?" Dean asked. He wanted to argue but knew Jimmy would have none of it.

"Then give it to Castiel, he'll give it to me."

"Oh, okay."

Jimmy grinned and waved, heading off back towards the school. So it was with a grin on his face that Dean greeted Sam as he climbed into the Impala and they could go home and not come back for two weeks.

"Ready for break, Sammy?" He asked, turning the car on and backing out of his spot.

Sam grinned and nodded. "Dean look, Brady got us cookie cutters. Well technically he gave them to me but I don't know how to make cookies without your help so I just sort of decided they'd be for both us. Can we make cookies? Please, Dean? God, those sugar cookies and that icing that we used to make when we were younger and eat off graham crackers? God that sounds so good."

"It does," Dean admitted, nodding.

"Let's do that tonight. And watch some Christmas movie?"

"God, Sammy you're turning into a chick-flick." Dean complained, turning to look over his shoulder to change into the right lane.

"Shut up," Sam laughed, punching his shoulder. "You know it sounds fun."

"You're right, it does. Hold on, let me stop at the store."

.

...

.

Sam turned on Love Actually, and they made sugar cookies.

"Hand me that bowl, Sam."

"Here. Pass me the flour."

Dean chuckled, grabbed a handful of flour and threw it hard at his brother, costing him in the stuff. "Hey!" He squeaked, wiping his face off. "Ooh, you're going to wish you hadn't done that." He turned and grabbed the nearest thing, which happened to be an egg, and he ran at his older brother. Dean yelped and ran, grabbing the bag of flour and throwing handfuls at him. Sam slipped on the second handful and went down, the egg landing nicely on his cheek, coating his shirt and neck. "Yech!" He said, sticking out his tongue and shaking the egg off. "That was your fault."

"You were chasing me!" Dean protested. "Come on. We'll clean up and keep going. The Prime Minister is just about to tell off the President," He referenced the movie, and Sam began to wipe the flour up. While he changed his shirt Dean shaped the first tray of cookies and set them on the oven, and then Sam shaped the second tray while Dean cleaned up the ingredients, trying to find places to put things. Then they put both of the sheets in the oven and made it to the living room just in time to see the Prime Minister that they weren't going to be bullied.

"If you ever tell anyone this I'll gladly kick you into next week, but I love this movie." Dean mumbled, stretching his feet out and poking his brother's leg with his toes. Sam chuckled and flicked his brother's knee.

"I know you do. Cause no matter how much you deny it you love chick-flicks, and you want your life go be exactly like one-"

"Bitch!" Dean snapped, lunging for him.

"Jerk," Sam laughed, trying to fend him off. He was doing pretty well, actually. He started high school at a measly 5 foot but was growing like it was his job. He was already only a few inches behind Dean; five foot seven to his five foot ten. He struggled against Dean, laughing and jabbing him in the ribs.

"Okay, okay. Why don't you check on the cookies," Dean said, shoving him off the couch.

"Fine, gosh." Sam jumped up and ran for the cookies. Dean stared at the TV, letting himself get lost in thought. Did he really want to bring Sam to this party? What if something bad happened? What would Dad do to him? Dean's one job was to take care of Sammy. He didn't have any other responsibilities, according to Dad. But that was wrong. He needed to feed them, make sure they got to school and pay the monthly bills. And Dean's savings were slowly getting smaller and smaller. Sooner or later, he was going to have to get a job. He knew about a car garage down by the grocery store that he planned to apply to. It wasn't Bobby's, but it was going to have to do. And if they didn't want him there, which Dean doubted, he could fix the Impala from the ground up and other cars couldn't be that much different.

"Dean!" Sam shouted, and Dean started, jamming his toe against the coffee table.

"What?!" He shouted back, holding at the offended toe.

"The cookies are done! What do I do! They're going to burn!"

"Don't grab the pan!" Dean shouted, running for the kitchen. He grabbed the potholder from the top of the fridge and carefully slid the first tray out, then the second. Sam appeared at his side with two spatulas, and they gently pried each cookie up and onto a cooling rack. "They'll be super hot," Dean warned as Sam reached for one. The younger brother shrugged and grabbed one of the first ones, taking a careful melty bite.

"Awmahgahd," He moaned around the cookie, his eyes closing and his whole body slumping against the counter. He held a hand to his chest. Dean chuckled and grabbed one. Sammy didn't move, just chewed and swallowed. Dean was surprised; usually they were good, but not THAT good. "Ow," Sam mumbled.

"I told you they'd be hot," Dean laughed as he blew on his own cookie.

Sam rubbed at his chest like that would help, taking another bite and mumbling "ow" around it.

"Quit eating it if it's so hot. Come on, the movie is still going. We'll let the rest cool and then we can ice them," Dean said, heading for the couch. He slumped into his seat and munched at the cookie. It was pretty good, but he didn't really understand why Sam had practically had an orgasm with his first bite. Sam took practically a year coming back into the room. "You better not be stealing cookies in there!" Dean hollered, stretching up to look over the back of the couch. Sam was wandering into the room.

"I'm not," he said, sitting down and pulling his knees to his chest. Dean stared at him. He was acting really weird.

"Hey," Dean said, pushing his leg with his toe, and the gasping when he remembered that he had just smashed that toe. "Ow. What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing, I'm fine," the boy lied, but Dean didn't push it. If Sam was going to lie to him, he wasn't going to push it. He probably had a good reason.

Dean quirked his mouth, turning his face back to the TV and trying to catch up with the movie. They watched in silence for a while, until it reached the sad part, and Sam grimaced and wrinkled his nose. Carl, on the screen, looked devastated, and Sam's expression moved to mirror it. "I hate this part."

"Me too," Dean mumbled. "Wanna go ice the cookies?"

"Yeah," Sam said, jumping up. Dean followed him and they passed icing across the table decorating each cookie with careful precision.

"So," Dean said, without looking up.

"Hm." Sam mumbled, concentrating on his cookie. He was drawing something new on each one, and it was making Dean pretty jealous how good they were compared to Dean's.

"The Novaks are having a party. The day before Christmas Eve. And... Well, Gabriel invited us."

Sam spasmed, the icing in his hand erupting all over his hand and cookie, but he didn't even seem to notice. "What?"

"Their mom and Rafael went to New York for the holidays, so Gabriel and Castiel and Anna I think are throwing a huge party or two."

"It's going to be a teen party? With drinking and stuff?"

"Yeah," Dean said.

Sam stared at him, his eyes wide. "And you're okay with me going? I mean, don't get me wrong; I really want to go. But I thought usually you wouldn't want me to go to one of those kinds of parties."

"Well I don't love it. But I mean, as long as you're careful..."

Sam jumped up, ran around the table, and tackle-hugged his older brother, getting frosting all over his cheek. "Yeah, I promise I will! God it's going to be so fun..."

He rambled on, going back to his cookies, but Dean stopped listening. He couldn't stop thinking about what could go wrong.

.

...

.

Sam wouldn't hold still. He bounced against the seat of the Impala, watching the houses go by outside. He had a set of moose antlers on his head, and they brushed against the window every time he turned his head. He wore an ugly Christmas sweater that said Merry Christmas Ya Filthy Animal. He made Dean wear one, but the only other one that they had was just big and baggy and had designs on it. Dean wore a simple black shirt under it so he'd be able to take it off. And then, of course, the obligatory Santa hat, and the drawing of Jimmy that he had finished at two in the morning the night before folded carefully in his pocket.

When they pulled up to the Novak house, the party was already in full swing. Light and music poured from the windows, and a couple was making out on the front stairs. Dean parked the Impala down the street so it had no chance of getting hurt, and then they walked back to the house.

Dean opened the door for his brother, and instantly stumbled back a few steps. The music hit him like a wall, and then Gabriel hit him, his arm slung around a redheaded girl's shoulders. "Dean! And Sammy! You made it!" He shouted over the noise, a grin stretching his red cheeks. He looked well plastered already, and the girl was giggling. "This is Charlie, we met her on tour and now we can't get rid of her."

"You wouldn't want to," she shot back, poking him in the side. "You're Dean and Sam?" She held out a hand, but completely missed when Dean went to shake it. She tried again, laughing so hard her eyes squinted up and she bent over at the waist. Gabriel tried to keep her up, but it wasn't working well.

A random girl ran up, wearing nothing but a half shirt and booty shorts. She was holding a handful of some green and red plant, and she held it above their heads. "Mistletoe!" She screamed. "Kiss!"

Gabriel shrugged, took Sam's face between his hands, and planted a kiss right smack on his lips. Sam's eyes shot open wide, his hands flying up and suspending right on either side of the musician's face. Charlie chuckled and pulled Dean forward, pecking him quickly on the lips before pulling away. "Sorry I'd kiss ya more but I don't really want to," she said. "Don't play for your team." She mimed hitting a baseball, and then laughed. "Can I get you a drink?"

Dean glanced back at Sam. They had broken apart and Gabriel was laughing at the complete look of astonishment on the Winchester's face. His cheeks were pale and his eyes were wide. "Sammy, be careful, alright? I'll check on you every once in a while."

The boy nodded, his eyes finding Dean before Charlie dragged him off into the living room.

It was chaos. There was two people pressed flat together and dancing on the coffee table, and other people dancing together or alone scattered around the room. Red solo cups littered every single surface that here was, and the TV was scrolling Pandora's Calvin Harris radio. Cords ran from it to huge speakers everywhere. There was a Christmas tree in the corner, but instead of having lights and ornaments on it all it had was red solo cups, and two bras. Dean wasn't sure who they belonged to.

Dining room, also packed. All of the chairs were gone, and each end of the long table had a diamond of red solo cups, and there were two people at each end of the table. Dean saw one of the girls throw a ping-pong ball, and it landed in one of the cups closest to the other team. The room erupted in cheers at the other team drank from their cups, but Dean didn't see any more because then they were in the kitchen.

It was a _mess_. There were two giant stacks of red solo cups that still hadn't been used, and about two hundred empty beer cans occupying a whole wall counter. On another counter there were at least five handles of vodka, just normal Smirnoff, and several jugs of orange juice. The stairs were littered with people and cups and clothing. He recognized one of the guys, but didn't know his name. He wasn't sure at all what his name was, but he was pretty sure he knew him. Dean watched as Charlie mixed together the vodka and orange juice, swirling it around to mix it a little bit. "Here," she said, handing it to him. "Screwdriver."

Dean had had vodka before, it wasn't his favorite but it did the job, but he hadn't had a screwdriver before. And unfortunately, it was good. Dean had finished it before they even made it back to the living room. "Wait," he said to Charlie. "Can I have another one?"

"Trying to catch up?" She laughed, turning back around to head for the kitchen.

Dean drank his second one much slower, waiting for it to hit him and watching Charlie dance with some girl in the living room. He sank into the couch, just watching and sipping the screwdriver. The people on the coffee table had stopped dancing and were now simply making out, hands roaming.

Someone plopped down next to him, holding a cup. "Hey," he said in a thick accent.

"Hey," Dean said back, looking at the guy over the top of his cup. His eyes flickered away from the couple on the table, almost glad for a distraction. "I'm Dean."

"Benny," the guy said, clicking his cup to Dean's. "How'd you know the Novaks? You don't strike me as the musical type."

"School. I know Gabriel from school," Dean explained, shrugging. "Not really the musical type. What about you?"

"I'm Lisa Braedon's manager," Benny explained, shrugging. "Lucy took a likin' to me. I come to all the parties now."

"Lisa Braedon? Like _the_ Lisa Braedon?" Dean asked, eyes wide. The Novaks couldn't know Lisa. She was huge. She was more huge than anyone could ever hope to be.

"Yeah. Top of the iTunes charts for two years; this Saturday. Really proud of her, you know? She ain't done anythin' she wouldn't be proud of, and she still made it to the top. She's great. She's a great gal."

"Are you two...?" Dean nodded, trying to be suggestive.

"Ah, no, I've got my own gal. Andrea. She don't like parties like this, but she knows I have fun, so she tells me to come."

"How old are you?" Dean asked. Lisa was only twenty, but Benny looked like he could be thirty, maybe.

"Twenty-five. Year older than Lucy himself. I know I look older. It's the beard."

Dean laughed a little bit, swallowing the last of his screwdriver. "It's nice."

Benny looked like he was going to say something, but right at that moment someone jumped over the back of the couch and landed smack between them, laughing.

"Dean! Come on! I want you for my beer pong team."

It was Castiel. He had a huge shit-eating grin on his face, and he batted at the Pom-Pom on Dean's hat. "Come on!" He said, grabbing Dean's hand and rocketing off. Dean stumbled after him, his head spinning. He hadn't stood up yet, and apparently the alcohol had hit him. The room swayed a little beneath his feet. His throat burned, but he liked it. It felt nice.

Castiel pulled him all the way to the end of the table, and put a ping-long ball in his hand. "Come on, us versus them." Dean looked up, and met eyes with Sam. Sam was bright eyed, laughing hard and standing next to a swaying Gabriel. The bassist had an arm around Sam's shoulder.

"I'm going to drink for Sam," Gabriel announced. "He's not up for drinking."

"Boo!" Someone in the crowd shouted, and Gabriel grabbed the nearest thing-a solo cup full of water-and threw it at the person. They yelped and shook water out of their hair.

"Don't you dare boo anyone who doesn't want to drink. It's his preference. Don't fucking try it or I will rip you to pieces."

There was a moment of silence, and then someone started clapping. Then another person, and another, and then the whole room was cheering. Dean couldn't help but laugh, and Castiel grinned at him. Dean had a sudden rush of affection for the bassist.

"Come on, let's play!" Castiel shouted, and he threw the first ball. It bounced off the rim of the first cup and hit Sam in the stomach. Dean aimed carefully, and threw in an arc, straight into the very front cup. It landed with a plop, and everyone shouted loudly, cheering and laughing and clapping. Gabriel moved the cup away, and, instead of drinking from it, he took a drink from a beer that he had sitting on the table in front of him.

"I don't get it, why not from the cup?" Dean asked Castiel, and the singer laughed.

"We don't want ping-pong balls in our beer, gross. Also this just conserves the beer better. All around better. All there is in the cups is water; it keeps them from falling over. That way we can re-use them too." Dean glanced down and saw that he was right. Each cup just had the bottom full of water.

Sam threw his ball, and so did Gabriel. Gabriel missed the table completely, and Sam's went into the one right in the middle. Dean took a sip from Castiel's screwdriver while the singer protested.

When Dean had taken a swallow, he laughed and handed the cup back to Castiel, who laughed too. The room spun a little bit, and Dean could feel his cheeks warm from the alcohol. He liked it. It was a good feeling.

The played the game all the way through, and Sam and Gabriel won. It was probably because Sam was sober, but nobody said anything about it for fear that Gabriel would try and fight them. When the game was through a man who introduced himself as Lucy said that the older kids wanted to play some game called stacking or something, and they tried to explain it. Dean played even though he didn't know how to play. It involved bouncing a ball into a cup before the person behind you could, and Dean just knew that he drank a LOT, and then lost and had to drink the end cup from the middle of the table, which was probably a whole beer just dumped into a red solo cup.

Castiel dragged Dean to the living room. "Want anything more to drink?" He asked, and Dean nodded and took a screwdriver.

It was his forth one, if you included the one that he drank most of during the game. He was having too much, more than most of the people, but he was also used to it because he drank whiskey a lot on his own time. When he had finished it, Castiel was laughing at the song that had just come on. Castiel was laughing a lot, and Dean liked that. It was beautiful.

"You're gorgeous when you laugh like that," Dean told him, and Castiel smiled, pulling Dean closer.

"Dance with me," he mumbled into the Winchester's ear, and then he was pressed up against Dean from chest to knee. They swayed and bounced and laughed, and Dean couldn't help but wrap his arms around Castiel's neck. The boy's laugh was contagious.

"Caaassstiyyeel," Dean tried, but he couldn't manage his name. "Cassss? Caaaas. Cas."

"Yeah?" The singer looked a little bit surprised, a little bit warmed. It might have been from the drinking, but it also might have been from the alcohol.

"Cas." Dean decided. "You should do karaoke. Your voice is 'mazing."

"Yeah?" Cas repeated, laughing. "A'right. Only if you sing with me, though."

"'M not a singer," Dean mumbled, pouting a little bit.

"Who here s'gonna judge you?" He asked, spreading his arms. "We're'll friends here."

Somehow Dean ended up on top of the coffee table with Cas. The singer handed him a microphone and grinned, giggles escaping him. "Watch'a screen, lyrics're there."

Dean stared at the screen and tried to figure out what song it was. Did he know it?

_Got it!_ Dean grinned and turned around to face the room, looking at all the faces of the people. They were all having a great time.

"_Shawty said she wants to run away,_" Dean sang, and Cas grinned, letting him take the first verse.

"_Says I look like a boy she used to date_," While Dean sang, Cas added in the extra voice in the background, "_Ha!_"

"_Took me by the hand and pulled me to the stairs,_" and Cas added "_I'm NOT interested, girl._"

Cas took the second part, jumping in before Dean could start. They probably sounded terrible but no one seemed to care. "_Put her tongue all up in my ear,_" and Dean hollered, "_Gross!_"

"_Almost made me spill my beer,_" Cas shrugged at him, looking almost offended, and Dean laughed, "_Oh Shit!_"

"_She's up and ready to go, but I don't care._" - "_Pssh, whatever!_"

"_'Cause I'm in the zone,  
><em>

_Turn off my phone, I've got my own agenda."_

The two boys sang together, belting it out like there was no tomorrow. "_I feel like dancing tonight,_

_I'm gonna party like it's my civil right_," and someone shouted from the crowd, "_everybody get kinda awesome!"_

"_It doesn't matter where, I don't care if people stare,_

_'Cause I feel like dancing tonight._"

Dean grabbed Castiel's hand and spun him around, laughing when he almost fell from the table. "_Everybody getting kind of crunk,_

_I think some dude just grabbed my junk,_" he fake-protected himself, and Cas laughed, "_Woah!_"

"_Now I know how Ke$ha must be feelin',_

_Bros try to turn me upside down._

_Put a keg tap to my mouth,_

_But that's okay, I'm dancin' on the ceiling._"

Cas grinned and pulled his hips close to Dean's swaying them back and forth as he sang. "_'Cause I've got the groove,_

_I'll bust a move; just try and stop me._"

Dean added in, and it was awesome. "_I feel like dancing tonight,_

_I'm gonna party like it's my civil right_,"

"_Everybody get kinda awesome!_"

"_It doesn't matter where, I don't care if people stare,_

_'Cause I feel like dancing tonight._"

Dean took a step back and let Cas belt out the bridge, which he did like it was his job, and it was stunning. Dean could never have words descriptive enough for how drawn to Cas he was. "_Somebody call the police,_

_I think they're coming to get me,  
><em>

_They say: "You've got the right to remain on the dance floor",_

_So show us what you've got 'cause you know that you've got more._"

"_I feel like dancing tonight,_

_I came to party like it's my civil right,_

_It doesn't matter where; I don't care if people stare,_

_Because I feel like dancing tonight._"

"_Oh, one more time!_" Dean shouted, and Cas was laughing too hard to finish the song, so Dean finished it alone.

"_I feel like dancing tonight,_

_I'm gonna party like it's my civil right,_

_It doesn't matter where; I don't care if people stare,_

_'Cause I feel like dancing tonight,_"

And on the very last line, Cas jumped in again. "_I feel like dancing tonight_."

They laughed and collapsed off the table onto the couch, watching as someone new grabbed the karaoke and started up a new song. Everyone was dancing, and Dean's head spun like a top. Everything was still, but it really wasn't.

"'Told you I wasn't a singer," Dean managed, and Cas shook his head.

"Nah. Nah. You're great." Cas shook his head, grabbing Dean's face between his hands and staring at him. He really was beautiful, but Dean couldn't find his throat to tell him.

That's when the girl with the mistletoe showed up. Now, it was really an accident, but at that point both of the boys probably would have taken any excuse. She plopped down on the couch next to them, laughing and showing them the mistletoe and accidentally letting go of it. It arced through the air and whacked Cas in the face, making his eyes shoot wide and his hands move from Dean's face to his own.

"Let me see," Dean demanded, moving the boy's hand. There was a small scratch, across his cheek and right onto the corner of his mouth. It wasn't anything like bad. It would probably be gone by the morning.

"Are you a doctor, now?" Cas snickered, and Dean smirked.

"Yes," He said seriously. "And this looks pretty bad." Maybe it was the alcohol singing in his veins, or maybe it was the way Cas was looking at him, but he said, "And I have a special prescription for this severe an injury."

"Yeah?" Cas breathed, his eyes flickering to Dean's lips. "What's that?"

Dean leaned forward slightly and touched his lips to Cas's cheek, where the cut started. "Just a little something someone taught me once." He moved down the cut, closer to the singer's mouth. He could feel him panting against his neck. "And the prescription calls for a lot of it." A little closer. "Very thorough." Closer. Almost there, now. "And I think it'll work just fine on you."

Landing. Their lips slotted together, and Dean carefully touched his hands to Cas's chin, holding him close. Cas breathed a sigh through his nose, and then pressed closer, closer and closer, their mouths dancing and their teeth knocking and tongues touching. It was messy, sloppy and instinctual, but glorious. Easily the best kiss Dean had had in years.

It broke when Cas finally laughed, his nose wrinkling and grin stretching across his face. His eyes flicked back and forth between both of Dean's. They were just so _blue. _Dean watched as his smile died a little bit, but he didn't look troubled. "Hey, so I want to tell-"

"Dean!" Sam laughed, tumbling onto the couch next to Dean. "Dean, are we spending the night here?"

That was a good question. Dean quirked his mouth, turning half away from Cas, distracted. Did he lock the front door? Did he turn the stove off? What if Dad decided to come home for Christmas and showed up, and they were both at a party? Anxiety attacked Dean as he answered the best he could. "I don't know, maybe we shouldn't-"

"Hey," Cas interrupted. "You're not driving anywhere in the condition that you're in. I'm not going to let you."

"Relax," Dean comforted, "In a few hours I'll be fine-"

"No," Cas said, folding his arms. "Nope. No one is leaving if they've been drinking. I've seen one too many drunk driving crashes. Unless Sam can drive, you're not going anywhere."

"I have my permit," Sam volunteered, looking back and forth between the two boys, neither of whom looked at him. Cas's eyes stayed locked on Dean.

"Illegal, then," Cas said, with a sudden flash of sobriety. "Deans only... Eighteen, right?" When he nodded, so did Cas. "So that means it's illegal. If you get pulled over and Dean is drunk and you've only got your permit I don't want you to be coming from my stupid party. It's not worth it. Not Worth the crash, not worth the ticket, not worth losing anyone over it. You can sleep on the couch, or the floor or in the guest bed or whatever."

"Alright, guess we're staying," Dean said, shrugging. Cas chuckled, and Sam nodded.

"Dean, Gabe wanted to show me the garage and I think they're going to do a little performance. Wanna come?"

"Wow, I haven't been informed," Cas said, fake-offended, holding a hand to his chest.

"Cassie!" Gabriel shouted, grabbing the boy's tank top over the back of the couch. "Come'n, we're gon sing."

Cas shrugged and chuckled, grabbing Dean and dragging him along, Sam following along behind.

There were probably six people in the garage, not including the band. Lucy was sitting behind his drums, testing out the snare quietly. Dean relaxed into a folding chair next to Sam and Cas and Gabriel set up. Dean watched Cas's back as he plugged in his guitar and pulled the strap over his head, putting the pick into his mouth to ruffle a hand through his hair and muss it up a little more. He pulled his mic stand up, touching his mouth against it as he tightened the stand. Dean couldn't rip his eyes from Cas's mouth, finding himself wanting to kiss him again.

Dean wasn't gay. He liked girls. Of course he did, that's what dad always said, guys liked girls, and girls liked guys. It wasn't supposed to work the other way. It wasn't that he didn't like gay people; he just had never considered it as an option for himself. He didn't want to think about how he had just spent the better part of five minutes making out with a boy on his couch. But he wasn't about to over-analyze this, because he knew it wouldn't do anything good. So he didn't try.

So there was nothing to stop him from staring at Cas's mouth as the band began to play.

_We were steamin' at the seams, _

_And the scene seemed like in dreams _

_Pressed close behind the tinted glass _

_As the cops headlights scrolled past _

_"I can't see a thing," Kelly said, blushing _

_And she spelled our names on the window _

_Of her sister's Monte Carlo _

Dean lost himself in the music, the forth song on the album, if he remembered right. He assumed it was called The Restless, or maybe just Restless. Because as the chorus came up...

_And this is the soundtrack, playing it back _

_Of our restless lives _

_It doesn't make no sense, these are the moments _

_We'll remember for the rest of our restless lives _

Dean wanted to close his eyes and just sway, but he couldn't. He couldn't stop staring at Cas. The singer was in a bro-tank and skinny jeans, that's what he seemed to be wearing all the time, and his guitar strap yanked at his shirt a little. It tugged down enough for Dean to see his tattoos, at least some of them. The black ink was so dark, Dean found it hard to believe it wasn't just pen. It looked like some artist had just attacked him with a sharpie while he was asleep and doodled all over him. His body held tension and emotion and life as he played the guitar beautifully, his feet bouncing him a little and trying to keep him balanced. And then there was his face. Most of the time his eyes were closed, but sometimes they would open and glance at the microphone, or Gabriel and the rest of the band, or Dean, or the ceiling or whatever. But he just looked so concentrated, so lost in his music, in his lyrics. It was beautiful. Dean was stricken with amazement.

The song ended, and there was wild applause from all of the people in the garage. The band bowed, laughing. Anna and Lucifer high-fived, and Gabriel knocked his hip against Castiel's.

They played more. They played at least three more, more and more people pouring into the garage, until Anna had to pee and it just sort of fell apart. Everyone disappeared back through the door, and Dean just sat back and watched. Someone had handed him an unopened beer, but he didn't know who it had been. He lounged in a loveseat that he had found in the back corner, looking too stained and old to be in the house. Eventually the last of all the people were gone, and Dean leaned his head back and opened the beer, closing his eyes. It wasn't silent, not with the party still happening in the house, but it was quiet. It reminded Dean of how he usually drank. It was an oddly nice feeling.

The door opened again, and then shut quickly. Dean opened his eyes and looked up to see who had come in, and he saw Cas. The singer was facing the door, holding the doorknob and breathing hard, like he was had been running to hide from someone.

"Did you lose them?" He asked, and Cas spun around, bracing his hands on the door, his eyes wide.

"Dean!"

"That's me."

"Hello, Dean. What are you talking about?" He asked, heading across the room. He hesitated a few feet from the Winchester.

"Looked like you were hiding from someone. Did you lose them? Here, come sit," he offered, scooting over a little bit and setting his beer on the chair next to the couch. The newer fabric of the couch was cold against his arms.

Cas plopped down, half-turning to face Dean. "Thanks. And uh, yeah, I guess. Gabriel was trying to get me to do karaoke with him." He laughed a little, his eyes on the door.

"Why didn't you do it?" Dean asked, eyebrows rising. "You did it with me."

Cas's eyes flickered back and locked with Dean's. "That's different."

Dean found the air in his lungs sucked away as the desire to kiss this strange boy came back with a vengeance. "How come?" He breathed.

They stared at each other. Somehow the space between their faces had gotten a whole hell of a lot smaller, and their breaths mixed in the air between. Cas smelled like honey and vodka and beer and cherry and poppies. Dean didn't know what poppies smelled like but he was pretty sure that this was it.

It was Cas that closed the distance this time, bridging the gap between their lips and pressing close, his tongue tracing Dean's bottom lip. Dean pushed back, his hand sliding up the boy's arm and resting on his neck, pressing against the boy's pulse and kissing him in time to the beat. Cas grinned between the kisses and shoved back, his hands fisting in Dean's shirt and his whole torso moving forward, sliding forwards until he was practically in Dean's lap.

Dean couldn't help it; he moaned. Cas's breath all left him in one huff at the sound, a whimper escaping the back of his throat. "C'mere," Dean whispered, grabbing his belt loops and heaving the singer into his lap. They slid together and seemed to click into place, like Cas fit on top of Dean like that perfectly. Dean found his hips bucking up, grinding his bulge into Cas's. The other boy groaned and pushed back, his mouth falling open a little bit.

Dean seized the opportunity, grabbing the back of the musician's neck and pulling his face down to his own, his tongue delving deep into his mouth. Cas opened up wide for him, his hands roaming up to tangle in Dean's hair as said boy's hands traveled to Cas's back, pressing him closer so they could grind together. The friction of his jeans was almost painful, but Dean couldn't bring himself to care.

Dean kissed his way down Cas's jaw to his neck, opening his eyes to glance at the tattoos and find where they were. He attached his mouth to the skin between a small tattoo of a planet surrounded by stars, and the end of the rope that twisted itself into a noose, and then began kissing and sucking hard until he was sure there would be a hickey in the morning. Cas moaned circled his hips, rubbing them together in all the right places.

Dean only pulled away when he realized how desperately he needed to catch his breath, and Cas collapsed on the couch next to him, his chest heaving as well as he laughed.

"Wow," Dean mumbled, his eyelids drooping a bit. "Tired."

Cas chuckled and grabbed Dean's hand, jumping up and towing him out of the room and up the stairs. He pulled him down a hall and then into a room on the end, which was a mess. Guitars and amps lay all over the room and leaned up on the walls, and the dark blue walls were bare, besides a large poster sporting Castiel, Gabriel, Anna and Lucifer all posed for their picture and the word Novak stamped across the top and dripping like it had been painted and hung up before it was dry. There were three beds, and Cas headed straight for the one in the furthest corner of the room. It had smooth black sheets and a black comforter, unlike the other two, which had white sheets and different colored blankets.

"Keeps it cool," Cas commented on the color, collapsing onto the mattress and kicking his shoes off. Dean slid into the bed as well, leaving everything except his hat on. Cas grinned at him as they cuddled closer in the cold bed, legs and arms tangling. Dean watched as Cas closed his eyes, and he wondered why Cas would leave his party for him. But the thought slid away like leaves on a stream, replaced by newer things that disappeared just as quickly.

Within five minutes, Dean was asleep.

.

…

.

When Dean woke up, Cas was gone. The bed wasn't cold, but it wasn't warm still either. Dean flipped his legs out of the bed, squinting at the alarm clock. The green letters read eight fifteen.

His head pounded, and nausea washed over him like a wave. For a moment he thought he was going to hurl, but then it was gone as quickly as it had hit and he took a deep breath. He had been hungover before, he could deal with this. It was only light sensitivity, a headache, and a general queasy feeling. Nothing he hadn't dealt with before.

He pushed himself to his feet and found his way across the room, seeing that there was a boy asleep in the bed with green covers on it. He wasn't sure who it was.

Dean picked his way over two people who were sleeping in the hall, downstairs, and into the kitchen, squinting at the light. The beer cans and red solo cups were already gone, and he was met with the sight of Sam and Gabriel pouring the leftover half-empty vodka bottles all into the same handle.

"Morning, Dean-o." Gabriel said brightly, and Sam looked up and grinned.

"Hey Dean. Sleep well?"

Dean grunted and tried to nod, ignoring how it made his head spin a little bit. "Feel like crap," he grumbled. "How are you so cheery?"

"Gabriel doesn't get hungover," Sam commented as he capped the vodka. "Do you want some bacon and eggs? Castiel made a bunch, it's on the stove."

Dean nodded and grabbed some, trying to ignore how the name Castiel made him feel. "We gotta get home some time soon," He mentioned to Sam, who only nodded.

"Finish your food, then we can. Gotta make sure Dad didn't decide to come home for Christmas," Sam said sourly, handing Gabriel the next bottle.

Gabriel and Sam finished up and moved on to the next room, and Dean continued to eat. It sounded terrible, but as he ate, he began to feel a little bit better. The sick feeling in his stomach muted a little bit.

When he finally ate his last bite and cleaned off his plate in the sink so he could put it back away, he felt better. He still had a headache and the light was still too bright, but he didn't feel sick anymore.

He tiptoed through the dining room, which didn't look so bad. The chairs were still gone and there was some liquid and a few ping-pong balls on the table, but the solo cups were gone and there wasn't anyone in there.

Then, the living room. There were people scattered everywhere, sleeping on the floor and the couch and even someone on the coffee table. Gabriel and Sam were picking through the sleeping people and cleaning up solo cups, stuffing them into garbage bags to be thrown out. Dean scanned the room, and-

Cas.

The singer was holding a black garbage bag that was half-full, and he was picking the solo cups out of the Christmas tree. He had to stretch up on his toes to reach the highest one, and Dean could just see the dark purple bruise on his collarbone. In that moment, it all came rushing back, and Dean had absolutely no idea what to say to the boy. He shoved his hands in his pockets, his face turning red, and his knuckles brushed a piece of paper.

_The drawing. _

Jimmy obviously hadn't been there; Dean hadn't seen the trench coat-wearing boy anywhere. So he had to give the drawing to Cas.

"Sam, come on, we gotta go," He said, hitching a thumb over his shoulder, and Sam made a noise of agreement, running his bag to the kitchen. Cas looked over at the sound of Dean's voice, eyebrows raised.

"Good morning, Dean."

"Hey, Cas," Dean said. "So, uh, Jimmy told me to give this to you if he didn't show up. So, uh, here." He crossed the room and handed it to the musician.

He just stared at it for a second, eyebrows furrowed. Then his eyes flicked back up to Dean. "Can I look at it?"

"Uh, sure, if you want, I guess," Dean rambled, feeling his cheeks heat up. His eyes dropped from his face, and caught the hickey on his collarbone instead. His cheeks got hotter.

Cas unfolded the paper and stared at the drawing of Jimmy. It wasn't Dean's best work, but it was the forth and best try of every time that Dean attempted to copy the picture. He had shaded in the background to make the boy stand out against the inside of the Impala, and it wasn't a masterpiece, but it was good enough to give to Jimmy. And Jimmy had wanted it.

"You'll make sure he gets it, right?" Dean asked, and Cas nodded slowly, his eyes still locked on the drawing.

"Dean… this is amazing. I had no idea you could draw like this."

The older Winchester shrugged, coughing to hide his embarrassment. "I'm not Picasso."

"No," Cas agreed. "Picasso did abstract and it was terrible. He couldn't have drawn something this realistic looking if he tried."

Dean blushed all the way to the tips of his ears. "Nah," He managed.

"Give it up, Cas," Sam laughed. "Dean's really bad at taking compliments. You ready, Dean?"

"Uh, yeah," He stuttered, backing away from Cas. "Um, see you, Cas, Gabriel."

"Bye Dean-o," Gabriel sang.

"Bye, Dean." Cas said quietly without looking away from the drawing. Dean retreated and then hurried down the walk after Sam. The morning air was cold, and the sun was already too bright. Dean's face hurt.

"Dean?" Sam asked as they climbed in the Impala. "Are you alright?"

Dean didn't respond, he just started the car and rolled it down the street.

"Alright, if you don't want to tell me. What do you have planned for today?"

"Nothing," Dean mumbled. "All I've got is tomorrow planned out."

"Okay. Can we go to church tonight?" Sam asked, fiddling with his phone in his lap. "This girl-Jess-she said that she would be singing in the little Praise Choir and she told me all about the beautiful Christmas Eve service and I just thought it might be nice to go."

Dean bit his lip, turning onto their road. "Church? I don't do church."

"I know it's not your thing," Sam accepted. "But I thought it would be nice. Please, Dean? For me?"

Dean heaved a breath, pulling up in front of their house. "What time is it at?"

"Ten. Goes till eleven I think."

"An hour? That's not bad. Be ready at nine forty five so we aren't late. I'm going to take a nap."

"Really? Oh my god, thanks, Dean!" Sam gasped, hugging his brother as he got out of the car. "I'll let you sleep. And I'll make dinner too. Thanks, Dean. It really means a lot."

They went inside the house, which was (_thankfully_) still empty, and Sam disappeared into his room, smiling at his phone. He couldn't help but wonder who he was talking to, but he didn't want to be nosy, and he also didn't have the energy. He trudged to the shower, stripped down, and stood under the warm spray, letting it run down his face and his bare chest.

His lips were chapped. That was the only proof that he had that anything from last night actually happened, except for the memories. It was a little hazy, and he had trouble figuring out what order it had happened in, but he could remember all of it. Especially the way Cas had felt on top of him, with his mouth on Dean's.

He took himself in his hand, but instantly felt guilty about it and stopped, turning the warm water to cold to calm himself down. It took a long time, but eventually he could turn the water back to warm and wash his hair. He did his best not to think about the party. He didn't know what to think, because he didn't like guys. He had never liked guys before. He didn't know what changed.

And there he was, thinking about it again. He sighed and turned off the water, toweling himself down and heading for his room.

He climbed in bed, and went straight to sleep.

.

…

.

"Sam, come on. Your hair looks fine."

Sam made a face down the hall at Dean, where he stood waiting at the door. It was already nine forty-five, and Sam was still fixing his hair. Dean didn't want to go to church for the first time in years and have to show up late, it would be too embarrassing. There would already feel like there were too many eyes on him.

He didn't feel sick anymore; just tired. And there wasn't any light to be sensitive to, so he wasn't sure if his eyes would still be irritated. That was alright with him, though. He had known what he was getting himself into when he had gone to the party.

"Alright, let's go," Sam said, bouncing down the hall. Dean rolled his eyes and opened the door, locking it behind them and heading out to the Impala. He wondered briefly if his dad had a key, and if he decided to show up, would he be able to get in?

He decided he didn't care. He would play dumb if Dad tried to yell at him for it.

The drive was short and quiet, no longer than the drive to the Novak house. The lot was already filling up, however, and Dean parked as far away as he could, next to an old van that looked a little familiar. He didn't want his Baby to be where any old grandma could rear-end her.

Sam led the way into the main church, grabbing two bulletins and two candles on the way, and Dean couldn't help himself from looking around. There was a giant stained glass window in the front with Jesus's face looking down on the whole room, and a little stage thing with an altar on it in the front. Pews lined the whole room, and there was a piano on one side and an organ on the other. Stands stood around the piano, and a couple people milled around there, including a girl with curly blonde hair that Dean noticed drew Sam's eyes immediately. That must be Jess.

The pews were already filling up, and as Sam and Dean took seats about halfway from the back of the room, Dean noticed the group of people sitting a few pews away from the front, all chatting and laughing and reading the bulletin. About eight people, and Dean recognized five of them.

It was the Novaks. Cas was on the end, and then Gabriel, Anna, a blonde that Dean didn't know, then Lucifer, after him the boy that Dean had seen that first day in the Novak house, (Samariel or something like that,) a big burly dark-skinned guy, and then a black-haired guy that Dean didn't know either on the other end. He knew a bunch of names, but he couldn't put them to the people.

"Did you see the Novaks?" Sam asked, and Dean nodded.

"Can you tell me which one is which?" Dean whispered, and Sam nodded, putting his bulletin down and squinting at the family.

"So Michael is on the far right, with the black hair. Then next to him is Uriel, then Samandriel, Lucifer, Rachel, Anna, Gabriel and Cas. Rafael isn't there. Oh, right, he's with Naomi."

"Ah, okay. Hey where did you pick up the nickname Cas? I've never heard anyone else say it."

Sam looked at him like he was crazy. "Do you not remember? I got it from you."

"What? When?"

Sam chuckled, a grin stretching across his face. "The party, dude. When Novak was singing? You wouldn't stop talking to me about how 'great Cas is.'"

"Oh my god," Dean mumbled. "I don't even remember talking then."

Sam laughed, and then covered his mouth when it was a little too loud. "Well you did. I can't remember the last time you were so drunk you didn't remember what was happening."

"Okay, there was a lot of vodka in those screwdrivers," Dean hissed. "And I had, like, four. So shut your cakehole."

Sam tried to muffle his laughter with coughing and glancing down at his bulletin.

"Is this seat taken?" A voice asked, and Dean looked up. A short little teen, maybe Sam's age and maybe a little younger, stood at the end of the pew. Dean shook his head and gestured for the boy to take the seat. "Thanks," He mumbled. "My mom can't get in the pews anymore so I have to find an end to sit on." He explained as he pushed a woman in a wheelchair up to the side of the pew. "I've never seen you here before. I'm Adam, by the way."

"Dean," The older Winchester introduced. "This is Sam. We don't come often." _Or at all._

"Brothers?" Adam asked, and Dean nodded. "That's cool. I wish I had a brother. Is it nice?"

_What kind of question was that? _Dean thought, and Sam chuckled. "Only when he's not being a jerk."

"Bitch," Dean mumbled, and Sam smacked him with the bulletin.

"We are in _church!_" The younger boy hissed. Adam chuckled and smiled at his bulletin.

"Please rise," A voice from the front of the room said, and Dean forced himself up next to Sam. The room had really filled up while Dean was distracted by Adam, and there was probably somewhere between one hundred and one fifty people there.

The service was pretty nice, actually. It kept going pretty smoothly, not boring, at least until the sermon. It was long and hard to keep up with. But the songs were nice; songs like Walk in the Light and Go Tell it on the Mountain. The Praise Choir sang by themselves a couple times, an arrangement of Go Tell it on the Mountain and a song called Fum Fum Fum and one about Jamaican Noels or something. That one was particularly nice because as the whole choir sang the chorus, the blonde haired girl grabbed a mic and sang out, clear and beautiful, above everyone else about shepherds and babies and stuff. Sam didn't look away from the girl the whole time, but he leaned over to Dean and whispered, "That's Jess."

Then the candlelight part started. Two men walked down the aisle, each with a lit candle, and the people on the ends of the pews lit their own off of theirs and passed the flame down the row until everyone had a little fire. Then someone turned off the light, and they sang Silent Night.

Dean didn't know the words, but he had the bulletin to sing from. He spent most of the song, however, just holding his candle, looking around at the other people singing, and listening. A hundred fifty people singing Silent Night in a still, candle-lit church was beautiful. It made Dean feel calm inside. It gave him a feeling of tranquility that not many other things gave him.

When the service was over and they had extinguished their candles, Sam and Dean shuffled behind Adam and his mother towards the exit. The pastor was shaking every persons hand and telling them Merry Christmas. Dean shook his hand, and the man smiled at him.

"Haven't seen you here before." He commented.

"No, you haven't," Dean said, a little sassily, and Sam smacked him.

"Sorry about Dean, pastor. We haven't been before."

The pastor nodded, shaking his hand. "That's okay. A little spirit is good. Well, don't be strangers. We're always open. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," Sam said back, herding Dean away before he could try to sass the pastor again. "Come on, Dean," Sam said exasperatedly as soon as they were out of earshot.

"Aw, shut up," Dean chuckled. "Come on, let's get home so you can get your sorry ass to bed and you won't be exhausted for Christmas."

"What are we doing to Christmas?" Sam asked as they crossed the parking lot to the Impala.

"That's for me to know and you to not. Come on."

.

…

.

On Christmas, Sam woke up before Dean, but it wasn't like it was early or anything. Probably eleven. He knocked out a rapid beat on his brother's door, and then skipped to the living room. Dean groaned, threw on pajama pants, and grabbed his present for Sam.

He trudged out to the living room, to find Sam sitting next to the little makeshift tree-hedge that they had cut down from the open field by the house. It had two dollar-store strings of lights on it and a paper star on top.

"Merry Christmas, Dean," Sam said, holding out a present wrapped in newspaper. Dean smiled and sat down with him, taking the present and handing Sam the one he had for him.

"Merry Christmas, Sammy." Dean smiled, holding the present in his lap. "You go first."

Sam grinned and tore into the wrapping, taking the bow off and putting it on top of his head. It was their tradition to do that, ever since they were really young. The bows came off and went straight on your head. Dean thought it was dumb, but he did it to humor his little brother.

"What's this? A picture of a guitar?" Sam asked, flipping it right-side up.

Dean nodded. "The real thing is in the closet in my room. It was too hard to wrap."

Sam's eyes flicked up. "You got me a guitar?" He gasped, his mouth falling open.

The older Winchester smiled, shrugging one shoulder. "You've been wanting one. I figured it was time for you to at least try it out."

"You didn't have to do that! Thank you, Dean," He laughed, giving him a big grin. "Now open yours."

"Don't you want to see the guitar?"

"After you open yours!"

Dean chuckled, shifting his feet so he could put the present on the ground. "Alright." He pulled the bow off and put it on his head, and then carefully pulled the wrapping off to reveal a little tin. When he pulled the lid off, it was empty. "You got me… nothing?"

Sam laughed, throwing his head back, which made his bow come off. "No, I just didn't want to wrap it. Let me go get it."

Dean used the opportunity to grab the guitar from the closet, along with the little tuner that he had gotten for free with it. Sam appeared back in the room, holding up…

"No way!" Dean said, his eyebrows stretching high. "You got me-!"

"A leather jacket, yeah," Sam said, practically glowing with pride. "I've been saving up all year for it."

"This must have cost so much," Dean breathed, running his fingers over the sleeves.

Sam didn't comment on that. "Try it on," He laughed, biting his lip.

Dean did as he was told, sliding the sleeves on and pulling it over his shoulders. "Oh my god, Sammy, it's great. Thank you so much."

Dean pulled his brother into a hug, and Sam laughed against his shoulder. "Is that the guitar?"

"Yeah," Dean said, handing him the instrument. Sam took it and sat down on the couch, trying out the strings.

"Thank you, Dean. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Sammy." Dean flashed his teeth in a smile. "I'm going to make pancakes for lunch. We're leaving at four."

"Where are we going?" Sam asked, looking up. His hair had fallen into his eyes, and he brushed it out of his eyes.

"To the barber shop, get that damn hair cut off," Dean joked, heading for the kitchen.

"No! I'm never going to cut it off!" Sam shrieked, and Dean laughed.

"Relax, Rapunzel, I was joking."

"Then where are we going?" Sam called over his guitar, which he was trying to tune. Not being played and sitting in a warm closet had made it go terribly flat.

"You'll find out when we get there, won't you?" Dean giggled a little. It was entertaining just how frustrated Sam would get. The boy spent the whole meal trying to trick Dean into telling him, but Dean never fell for it. He knew exactly what Sam was doing.

By the end, Sam was pouting, shoving the last bites of pancakes into his mouth. "Oh, by the way, Jess is going to come over real quick today. She said she had a present for me."

"Okay, she can stay as long as she wants, just make sure she's gone by four. Did you get her something?"

"I made her a necklace."

"Awww," Dean gushed, making kissy noises as he cleaned his plate up. Sam threw a butter knife at him, but before the older boy could retaliate, a loud click resonated through the house.

"What was that?" Sam asked, looking up at the ceiling.

"Oh, that's the noise that the doorbell has been making, it's broken again. Probably your girlfriend," Dean winked, and Sam protested, turning red.

But the doorbell clicked again, and Sam ran to get it. Dean could hear him opening the door and greeting someone warmly-

"Dean? This is Jess," Sam said, and Dean turned around, trying to smile. She was really pretty, with wavy blonde hair and green eyes.

"Hey, Jess. Want some pancakes?"

"Nice to meet you, Dean. And actually, hell yeah. Sam, did you already eat?"

"Well I did but if you want to eat I could sit with you."

Dean smiled as he made Jess pancakes, listening to the two of them chat at the table. Sam gave Jess the necklace, which she gushed about for a full minute and made Sam clip it onto her, and Jess gave Sam a little ticket for a free movie and dinner with her. Sam gave her a big hug, and Dean rolled his eyes. He should have kissed her; god knows that's what she wanted him to do.

Dean served Jess the pancakes and then started to clean up the kitchen, washing the dishes and cleaning up the counters. Jess gushed about the pancakes and Sam laughed and talked with her.

Dean was happy. He was happy because of a nice lunch, a new jacket, and the fact that Sam had forgotten about the bow on his head and Jess wasn't saying anything, but mostly he was happy because Sam was happy. Sam had found someone who made him happy. Whether or not they were dating didn't make a difference. Because Sam was happy anyways.

When she was done eating, she brought her plate over to the sink.

"Hey," Dean chuckled, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Washing my dishes?" Jess asked, looking over at him.

"My house, my job. Go have fun with Sammy." He smiled at her, taking the plate away and nudging her away with his elbow.

Sam and Jess disappeared into the living room, and Dean finished cleaning up slowly. He didn't know what to do with his day until four.

Luckily, after he cleaned the whole house and re-organized the kitchen twice, Jess and Sam asked if he wanted to watch a movie with him, which was nice, but Sam wouldn't shut up. Jess didn't seem to mind. Then when the movie was over, Dean and Sam both took showers, Jess wished the Merry Christmas and went home, and suddenly it was four.

"Where are we going, Dean?" Sam whined as they climbed into the Impala. Dean checked the backseat to make sure the bag was there; it was.

"You'll see. Relax."

Sam started to complain, but Dean turned the stereo on and dialed up the music so he wouldn't be able to hear his brother. Novak blasted as Dean turned off of their street and into town. He watched Sam out of the corner of his eye as he turned down Main, and then 5th, and then third…

It was worth not telling him. As soon as their tires hit the pavement on Maple, Sam lit up like a Christmas tree. His eyes got really wide and he spun in his seat, a cute little smile on his face, his jaw dropping.

"We're-we're… really?" He stuttered, gasping and turning down the music.

Dean grinned. "Yeah."

"It's been so long," Sam managed, dropping his back to the seat again, facing forward, his eyes alight with excitement. "Do the girls know?"

Dean wasn't actually sure. He just made a face, and hoped it explained. Sam didn't question it.

Sam looked like he wanted to be mad about that, but couldn't make himself mad at all. An excited smile lit up his face.

As soon as the car stopped moving in the gravel Roadhouse parking lot, Sam was out of the car and running for the door. Dean laughed and grabbed the bag from the backseat; the one with Ellen and Jo's presents in it, and locked the Impala behind him.

When he made it inside, Sam had tackle-hugged Jo into a wall, and was practically suffocating the girl.

"Sam-gch-can't-breathe-!"

"Sorry," He laughed, pulling away to grab her by the shoulders instead. He looked like he couldn't stop grinning. "It's just been so long. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas. And it has. Why are you here anyways, Sasquatch?" She asked, wiping down the nearest table with the rag that had been in the back pocket of her jeans.

"Dean," Sam asked, turning around, "Jo didn't know?"

"I guess only me and Ellen did," Dean shrugged, smiling and pulling Jo into a hug. She laughed a little bit.

"Get off me you big softy and let me clean up so I can kick your butt at pool."

"You have never been able to do that, and you never will!" Dean called after her as she disappeared into the back with the dishes bucket.

"Ellen!" Sam shouted as he collided with her at full speed.

"Oof! God, Sam. You're getting huge. You can't hug me like that anymore, you'll break a rib."

"Sorry," Sam said, grinning. He didn't sound sorry.

"That's okay, Sam. Merry Christmas, huh?"

"Merry Christmas," He chuckled as he let Dean hug her too.

"Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Dean," She said. "We've got presents for you in the back, but you're not going to get them unless you brought some for us," She added.

"Don't worry, I've got them right here," He chuckled as he sat down at the bar.

They sat around at the bar and on stools they pulled up from the nearest table and opened gifts. Dean got a new pair of boots, Sam got a backpack, ("Because that old one you always have with you always looks so terrible," Jo interjected,) Ellen got a necklace and Jo got a butterfly knife.

"Oh no way, I thought you couldn't buy these anywhere," Jo gasped, flipping it open and around.

"Then how do you know how to open it?" Sam laughed.

"Kelly has one. She doesn't let me use it anymore though. Not after I told her that I would punch her out if she called me Joanna again. Where did you get this?" Jo asked, her eyes glued to the knife.

"Eh, I might have driven to the next town over."

"Thank you, Dean! And Sam, of course."

"Any time. Merry Christmas, Jo."

"Merry Christmas."

…

**Merry Christmas :)**

**(Long-ass chapter.) **

**If that's what you celebrate. If you don't, then that's fine. Merry Whatever-You-Celebrate, and I hope you had a great one. :) Stay safe this New Years. **

**It has been brought to my attention that I didn't make any disclaimers about the songs. Some of the lyrics are mine, but not all of them. I like to mix-and-match songs. Take lyrics from everywhere and mash them into Frankenstein songs. Some of the Novak songs are by other band. Chances are, if you recognize the lyrics, those lyrics arent mine. (And of course the Karaoke song is a real song!) **

**Thanks for reading, guys. Send me some love :) -SRC**


	4. Chapter 4

**I need to mention that this story is not all lighthearted. It may have triggers in it, for people with depression or anxiety and who have triggers that have to do with violence. Please be careful and stay safe, and remember that it's all fiction! :)**

**(Note! Dean's coping methods are not the ones that I would advise! Dean is a little bit screwed up. Don't take any ideas from him, unless they're the good ones :) Handling things like he does, mostly, will not work out.) Stay safe, guys, I love you. **

…

After Christmas, Dean wasn't sure what to do with himself. The whole day after, he lunged around the house, re-organizing the kitchen, mindlessly cleaning and trying to sit through an episode or two of TV shows that he liked. Sam, who couldn't stand just sitting and watching, left at noon and didn't come home until eight. Dean was actually pretty mad about that, because he wasn't answering his texts, and Dean had no way of getting hold of him if it was an emergency. He grew angrier and angrier and more and more worried, re-organizing the kitchen at _least _six times. He just kept thinking about how his dad had told him _take care of Sammy _and now he couldn't even do that because he had no idea where he was. He could be lying dead in a ditch somewhere, unable to get to his phone. Or he could be having a great time and kissing Jess of hanging out with Gabriel but Dean had no way of knowing because he wouldn't look at his damn phone. He had the keys to the impala in his hand twice before he realized that he'd have no idea where to even start looking for him, and then he would collapse on the couch and bury his head in his hands.

At five thirty, Dean caved and picked up his cell, searching through his contacts to find Gabriel and hitting dial. Maybe he was with him. Maybe he wouldn't have anything to worry about. Maybe he had been freaking out for five hours for no reason.

"Hello?" A voice came through the phone, startling Dean and making him jump. His elbow smashed against the corner of the wall.

"Shit! Ow. Ow. Sorry. Gabriel?"

The voice chuckled a little bit, and then said, "Ah, no, this is Samandriel, Gabriel is driving. Who is this?"

"Um, Dean Winchester. I… um…"

He could hear a smile in his voice as the kid responded. "Ah, the infamous Dean. What can I do for you?"

"Um," Dean blushed, ridiculously, wondering which one had been talking about him, and trying to remember why he called. "Sam. Sammy. Is he, uh, has Gabriel seen him today?"

Samandriel's voice faded slightly and Dean heard him say, "Dean wants to know if you've seen Sam today."

"_No, I haven't. Why, is he missing?" _

Samandriel returned as Dean's heart plummeted, listening to Gabriel's words being repeated through the younger boy. "Gabriel hasn't seen him. Is he missing or something?"

"No, no, he just… isn't answering his phone. I'm sure it's fine. Thanks, Samandriel," Dean responded, and then without warning he hung up, bending over at the waist and taking deep breaths. If only he had Jess's number, but he didn't. He was truly at a loss for what to do.

When Sam finally came in, his eyes were bright and his nose was pink, like he had spent a lot of time outside. Dean was in the middle of stress-watching an episode of The Flash, yelling at the character for being stupid and even once throwing a pillow at the TV. When the door opened, he leapt off the couch; shoulders squared and jaw set to start yelling.

"Hey, Dean," Sam said, and Dean watched the happy light in his eyes die a little bit. He had been stewing up a storm inside of him the whole time, but as he watched his little brother's light-heartedness just sort of fade at just seeing him, just coming into the house, all of the anger and fight melted out of him like air out of a leaky balloon. It was then that he realized how relieved he was that Sam was okay, and he took two steps forward and swept his brother to his chest in a bone-crushing hug before going limp against his shoulder.

Sam, who had tensed up when Dean approached, threw his arms up to catch hi, surprised. "Whoa. Whoa, Dean, are you alright? Hey, hey, come on, let's get you to bed or something."

Dean slumped against Sam, letting the boy lead him down the hall to his room. Sam looked alarmed that Dean was even accepting help. The older boy just suddenly had no energy, all he could do was ball up a hand in his brother's shirt and mumble, "Worried. I was worried."

"Are you drunk?"

Dean shook his head, unable to get out any words, mostly just because he had none.

Sam disentangled himself from his older brother, helping him into bed as he talked. "I was out with Jess and a guy named Brady from out class. I went to text you to tell you where I was, but I accidentally left my phone here., I was going to tell you from Brady's phone but his mom had their service turned off and Jess doesn't have unlimited texting."

Dean mumbled something about it being okay, and Sam patted him on the shoulder. "Sleep good, Dean. I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow."

Dean rolled over as Sam closed the door, tucking his face into his pillow and trying to sleep. He knew it wouldn't work, now that he was in bed he wasn't tired at all. It always seemed to work that way. So he rolled onto his side and stared at the wall, picturing his little window into the field beyond. Maybe he could distract himself… Plans. Plans were distracting. What would he do tomorrow? Nobody to hang out with besides Sammy, really. Not anyone that he felt comfortable trying to contact, and Sam was probably sick of hanging out with his older brother. So… _Tomorrow, _he decided, _I'll go check out that garage. _

But then utter depression hit him like a sucker punch to the stomach. This was hopeless. He had no experience, no previous employers that he knew the number of or had anything good to say about him, no references, and they didn't even have a home phone. There was no way he was going to get this job.

He shoved himself up and yanked his drawer open, grabbing the bottle of whiskey from inside and pulling it to his lips. Tonight was going to be a drinking-straight-from-the-bottle night, and Dean couldn't even bring himself to care. He took huge, burning swallows; squeezing his eyes shut and trying not to breathe in so he wouldn't taste itor end up choking on it. It was all he needed for Sam to come in the next day and find him drowned in whiskey. He turned on his music, on low, and of course, first song was Carry on my Wayward Son. Dean started at the wall, waiting for the alcohol to hit him and take the pain and worthlessness away. This song always made him sad, and he didn't know why. But he didn't want to change it.

The night blurred, and he felt warmth spreading through his limbs. His thoughts slowed down, and he kept drinking. He knew how bad it was, but he didn't have the strength to even try to make himself care. He was going to keep drinking until it all went away, one way or another.

He was _long _past drunk when there were footsteps in the hall, and he put his bottle under the blankets. He didn't want Sam to try to take it away from him. He scooted down a little under the covers as the door opened a crack.

"Dean?" Sam said quietly into the dark room. "Are you still awake?"

"Yeah," Dean said gruffly without turning over. He didn't want Sam to know. He didn't want Sam to think that maybe it was his fault. Because it wasn't, not really. It was Dean's fault, for not being enough.

"You, uh, you have a visitor," Sam mumbled, and the door opened more, spilling light into the room. Dean could see two shadows on the wall, and he turned back over, squinting into the light.

"Hello, Dean," Cas said, and Dean's eyes shot open. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, flicking his lamp on and squinting at the light. Sam disappeared back into the hall, and Cas stepped into he room, a smile on his face and a Santa hat in his fist. "You left your hat at my…" He trailed off as he got a good look at the Winchester's face. "Dean, are you okay?"

Dean stared at the singer. Why was he here? He didn't care. No one cared. Sammy kept secrets from him. Probably because he didn't trust him, but why would he trust him? Ellen and Jo never made the effort, it seemed, and his own dad didn't give two shits about Dean. He hadn't even called on Christmas. Dean shook his head, tearing his eyes away from the boy and bringing the bottle back to his lips. He just wanted it all to go away. Maybe if he drank enough it would.

He heard the door close and for a second he thought that Cas had bailed, but then he there, sitting on the bed and guiding the bottle away from his mouth. "Dean, what's wrong?" He asked, wiping his palms against Dean's cheeks. It surprised the Winchester when he noticed his palms were wet. When had he started crying?

"Nothing s'wrong." Dean said sourly, pulling the bottle back up to drink from it, but he couldn't get it to his lips. Cas was prying it from his fingers and putting the cap back on and grabbing a tissue to clean up his face with. He looked concentrated and set, like he had a mission and was completely ready to go through with it. "Why're you here?" Dean demanded, grabbing onto the singer's wrist hard enough to make him drop the tissue. Cas went to pick it up as Dean spoke at him. "Why d'you care? You don't ev'n care. Just, go. It d'sn't matter-_I _don't matter. Please. Jus' go."

Cas's movements stuttered to a stop, his amazingly blue eyes snapping to Dean's green ones. "You matter, you asshole." He snapped, looking agitated and concerned and worried all at once. "Stop pretending that you don't. I care about what happens to you. I'm not going to let you drink yourself to death in here." He didn't stop staring into Dean's eyes, and Dean couldn't look away.

Dean hated him. He hated how he was taking care of him. He hated how he was pretending to care at all. Mostly he hated him just because of how much he didn't hate him. He didn't know what to do, his mind pulled in seven thousand directions at once, and he just wanted it to stop. He just wanted something to distract him. And here was this boy, all tightly wound just because he had found Dean drinking himself to sleep. This boy who cared. In that moment, it didn't matter to Dean that it was a boy. It just mattered that it was _Cas_.

He grabbed onto the singer's shirt and yanked himself forward, crushing his mouth to Cas's and pressing himself close, his hands in the boy's hair and begging for a distraction. Dean's tears were all over both of their faces, but Dean didn't care. Dean couldn't care. He just pressed closer, breathing in Cas's small and tasting him on his lips. This was okay. This could be okay.

Then Cas slowly pushed him away, and Dean felt the rejection like an electric shock to his chest, punching the air out of him. Dean pulled his face back, staring through watery eyes at the black-haired boy. His blue eyes were so torn, wanting and worried and pained. "Please," Dean begged, feeling sick about begging but doing it anyways. "Please do this for me, Cas. I need it. I need a distraction," He whispered, nudging their face together. He wasn't sure when he closed his eyes, but he couldn't see, so he must have.

"I can't," Cas breathed, pain in his voice. "Dean, stop. You're drunk. I would be… taking advantage… I can't…"

Dean knew what he was talking about, but he didn't want to listen. He pulled away and dropped his face to bury it in his arms. _So Cas didn't care after all. _

"I do," Cas protested, tugging at Dean's arm a little bit. "I do care." He said desperately. Dean hadn't been aware that he said it out loud, but also couldn't bring himself to care. "I care about you, Dean, that's why I'm not… You'll understand later, trust me. You will."

Dean wasn't so sure, but he allowed Cas to pull him out of his arms and lie down next to him in the bed. He buried his face in the singer's stomach, breathing his smell and listening to his heartbeat.

It was quiet for a long time, but Dean didn't sleep. The tape in the player clicked to a stop, and Dean tried to match his breathing to Cas's. Maybe that would make him feel better. For a while, it didn't.

"Jimmy liked your picture," Cas said, and Dean's eyes came up a little bit. Jimmy mattered, at least a little bit. Jimmy seemed important, but Dean didn't know why. Dean was sick of not knowing why.

"He did?"

"Yeah, he did. Gushed about detail and all that jazz. Of course he did. It was a great drawing, Dean. Why don't you draw more?"

"No good at it," Dean mumbled, closing his eyes again. He didn't want to go through this.

"Yes, you are."

"How can you say that?" Dean asked incredulously. How could he know? He didn't know anything. He didn't know.

"I can say that because I've seen, it, Dean. You're good at it. Stop selling yourself short," Cas practically ordered, rubbing a hand against Dean's shoulder.

Dean tightened his hands in the boy's shirt, closing his eyes and wishing he didn't have to open them or move ever again. Cas ran a hand through his hair, and began to hum a song that Dean didn't recognize.

Warm and with a spinning head - spinning so fast he didn't know how the tears on his face didn't fly off all over the walls - Dean sank into sleep. The last thing he felt were Cas's thumbs brushing away his tears.

.

…

.

Dean woke up cocooned in someone's arms. At first he didn't want to move, because he was comfortable, warm, and he felt safe. He didn't realize how much he normally missed this feeling until he had a taste of it. Safety. Safety was just something he grew up without. It probably died with his mother.

But as he turned his head and his eyes found Cas's shoulder, the boy sleeping all snug up against him, with nose buried in Dean's hair, everything from the night before came rushing back. Embarrassment, guilt, remorse and pain all washed through him at once, crashing down on him like a wave form the ocean, which gave him a horrific lurch of nausea. He slid out of Cas's arms, and pushed himself out of the bed. The singer stirred, but he didn't make a move to get up, so Dean assumed that he must still be asleep.

Dean pulled on his pajama pants when he realized he was only in his boxers, and ran his hands over his face, rushing for the bathroom. The nausea wasn't getting better like it usually did, so he closed the bathroom door and leaned over the toilet with his eyes squeezed shut. How was he going to get past this? Cas had seen him at his lowest, in the worst place he could be. What was he even supposed to say? To do? His head pounded, and he didn't know what to do.

God, he _hated _not knowing what to do.

He vomited his guts up, half-surprised he even had anything in him to throw up. It burned twice as bad coming up as it had going down, and seemed to be mostly just the alcohol that he had drank last night. When his stomach was empty, he flushed the toilet and curled up in a ball against the wall, shivering and feeling pallid.

"Dean?" The door opened quietly, and Dean moaned a little bit.

"Leave me alone," He groaned, feeling like he was going to cry again. God, he was pathetic.

Cas ignored him and scooped him up gently, as easy as picking up a book. He carried him back into his room and set him on the bed, where he pulled his knees to his chest and hid his face in them.

"Feeling any better?" Cas asked, rubbing his back.

"Sure," Dean mumbled without looking at him. He hesitated; he _hated _this, hate it hated it hated it, but finally he managed, "I'm sorry. About last night."

"Don't be sorry," Cas said calmly. "We all have our moments."

"God," Dean spat, suddenly angry. His head throbbed, but he ignored it. "Stop being so fucking _understanding! _It was a moment of weakness, and I should have been alone, I did nothing to deserve what you did for me! _God, _just go away. Leave me alone," He hissed into the boy's face. This was easier. It was easier to push him away then try to keep I'm in his life, and then be devastated when he inevitably left.

Cas's eyes narrowed, suddenly flashing with anger. His hand grabbed Dean's chin, so he couldn't look away, even though he tried. Cas locked their eyes and wouldn't look away. Dean wasn't sure he would be able to drop his eyes if he tried. "Stop. It. Stop with this whole self-hating thing. Stop with the whole 'I don't deserve it.' Stop thinking that you don't matter. Stop downgrading yourself, Dean. Every single person has a moment of weakness every once in a while, and it's completely normal. It doesn't mean you should have been alone. It doesn't mean no one should care about you. It doesn't mean that everyone will leave you. It means that you are _human. _I am _not _going away, Dean, I am your _friend. _So _STOP _trying to push me away. I am going to be here, helping you through things, whether you _like _it or _not!_" He snapped, and then he dropped Dean's face and left the room, leaving Dean staring after him with his mouth hanging open.

He didn't agree with him, and he didn't want to admit it, but he could see things from Cas's point of view. He could see why Cas might think he meant something, why Cas might think he was worth it. He knew that he wasn't, but apparently that didn't matter to Cas. Dean sat in his bed, staring at his hands, wondering where the boy went. He had just said that he wasn't going anywhere. Did he leave right after that? That would be a little hypocritical.

But then Cas was back, carrying a cup of water and a mug full of coffee. He sat down next to Dean and held them up. "Coffee or water?"

Dean picked the water, and Cas shrugged and drank the coffee himself. They sat in silence for a minute, and then Dean mumbled, "When did we become friends?"

Cas looked at him over the edge of the mug, eyes nonchalant. "Must have been sometime when we were making out. Or sharing a bed. Or singing a terrible rendition of an All Time Low song." HE said matter-of-factly, and Dean choked on his water, laughing out loud.

"God," He said when he could breathe again, "We were terrible, weren't we?"

"Truly awful," Cas chuckled, sipping the coffee again. "We were in different keys."

Dean laughed again, his head tossing back, and a grin stretched across Cas's face. "I told you I wasn't a singer," Dean managed, wiping the tears beading around the edges of his eyes.

"No see, funny part is, you were in the right key. I was the one who was wrong," Cas giggled, and Dean couldn't breathe around his laughter. His chest ached and his throat hurt and his eyes watered, and it was fantastic.

Eventually they calmed down, at least enough that Dean could drink his water again. His head was throbbing, but only gently now. He must have gotten all of the alcohol out of his system when he threw up. They stayed there until Dean finished his water, and then Cas said, "So what are you doing today? I have nothing and I am going to be so bored."

"Well, I was, ah..." Dean contemplated whether he wanted to go to the garage or not. He was terrified of every little thing that could go wrong, but he knew they needed money. "Um, I was going to go see if I could get a job." He managed, and Cas's eyebrows stretched high.

"Oh. That's... Big. Want me to come along? Moral support?"

Dean shrugged. "If you want to, I guess."

"Okay. Lunch is on me," he laughed, and then he jumped up, taking the cups with him.

Dean got dressed, and while he was tying the boots that Ellen and Jo got for him, Cas poked his head through the doorway. "Uh, Dean? Can we like... Stop at my place? I need to change. Or a new shirt, at least."

Dean grabbed his nearest T-shirt, an AC/DC shirt, and tossed it at him. "Here."

Cas looked surprised, but not nearly as surprised as Dean did when Cas simply pulled his tank-top over his head and pulled Dean's shirt on, leaving the tank on Dean's bed. Dean couldn't help his eyes from wandering over his chest and stomach as he pulled the shirt up.

Cas chuckled. "Usually I'm the one who gets in trouble for staring, Dean."

Dean blushed and dropped his eyes back to his boots, his fingers fumbling with the knots.

Sam was sitting in the living room, watching one of the Batman movies when they walked past, and Dean said, "We're going to go out for a while." And Sam made a noise of agreement, his eyes coming up to watch them leave the house. He looked a little worried, but Dean tried not to think about it. He didn't want to know how much his little brother knew.

Dean jumped in the impala first, making sure he had a finger on the volume dial of the stereo as the car came on. He didn't want what happened with Jimmy to happen with Cas too. Cas raised his eyebrows as he buckled himself in. "What are you doing that for?"

"Nothing," Dean mumbled, snapping the volume down to zero as the car started, without even giving the stereo a chance to start the song.

But as he pulled out of the driveway, Cas reached over and turned the volume up a few clicks.

_Your fate, you're snuggled up next to my brother_

_Sister, right next to the door_

_Ears open and waiting_

_Unfortunate, babe, it's unfortunate_

Cas turned it back down as Dean turned red, trying to keep his face straight forwards. Cas was trying to hide his smile. "Fan of Novak, then?"

Dean didn't say anything, just bit down on his lip and spared a glance at Cas. He was staring at Dean, eyes sparkling with laughter and lips twitching with a smile. He was beautiful, and Dean tried to ignore the jump in his stomach as he saw Cas in his shirt. He looked fucking fantastic wearing Dean's clothes.

Cas turned his face to look out the side window, smiling a little bit. "So where are we going?"

"Um, there's a car garage down by the store, I figured I'd see if they wanted me there." Dean said, and Cas turned back to him.

"You do cars?" He asked, eyebrows high.

"I do," Dean responded, patting his dashboard affectionately. "Well, I can do this baby from the ground up, and I helped... My uncle with his cars when I was kinda young," he managed, "But it's been a while."

"I'm sure they'll love you," Cas grinned. "Also, uh, we have some trouble with our van, the one that we take on tours, maybe you could take a look at it?"

"Oh, sure," Dean said. "If you want. I wouldn't even make you pay," he laughed as they pulled into the lot for the garage. Dean nervously played with his keys.

"Come on," Cas said. "It'll be fine. They're going to love you."

Dean took a deep breath and climbed out of the car, pocketing the keys and heading for the garage. Cas jumped out and followed him.

"Hey, something I can help you with?" An old dark-skinned man said as he came up to them, wiping his hands on a rag.

"Hi, are you the owner?" Dean asked, holding his hand out.

"I am. Dirty hands," the man warned, but Dean shrugged. The guy grinned and grabbed his hand, introducing himself as, "Rufus. But you can call me Rufus."

Dean smiled a little bit, giving him a strong handshake, knowing that he had scored points by insisting the handshake. He already liked the old man. "I'm Dean."

"What can I do for you, Dean? Having trouble with your car? Oh, wow. It the Impala over there yours?"

"Yeah, she is," Dean said, pride in his voice.

"She's a beaut. What year?"

"Sixty nine."

Rufus let out a low whistle. "I knew a guy once who had a car like that. He wasn't the best of the best, but he sure had a good taste in cars. Is there something wrong with her?"

"Ah," Dean mused, scratching the back of his neck and considering bailing. He could say there was something wrong with her sound, and then Rufus would look at her, find nothing wrong, and they'd be on their merry way.

Behind him, Cas was browsing through some kind of brochure, and he knocked his hip into Dean. Just something that would look like an accident, but Dean knew what it was supposed to mean. _Do it. You can do it. I'm right here._ So Dean took a deep breath and said, "Actually no, she's fine. If there was, I would be able to fix her myself."

Rufus put his hands on his hips, turning from where he was watching a long-haired kid fixing up a blue Honda. "You can? Can you fix other cars too?"

Dean shrugged one shoulder. "Some of 'em. I worked with my dad's friend when I was younger. In his shop. But I've never run into a problem on my baby that I can't fix. So I don't think I would have too much trouble."

"Here, see that Honda that Ash is working on over there? See if maybe you can help him figure out what's wrong with it."

"Alright," Dean responded, shedding his jacket and pulling his pants up a little bit. Cas grabbed his jacket and grinned after the two men walking away.

Dean delved into the machine's insides like his life depended on it, and within five minutes had the problem figured out and ten minutes it was fixed. He pulled his head out of the innards of the car and grinned. "There you go. All done," he announced, wiping the grease off of his hands onto a rag that Ash handed to him.

"Wow, you've got a gift," Ash commented, taking his rag back. "You should let him take the open position, Rufus."

"I'll be the one deciding around here who's getting a job." Rufus snapped, but then instantly, "Dean, you looking for a job?"

"Actually, yeah." Dean managed. Was this really happening?

"If you want it, it's Monday, Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday, four to nine. We'd be glad to have you." Rufus offered. "Ain't seen somebody like you in a long while. You got a gift, son," he echoed Ash.

"That's it? Do I have to fill anything in? Nothing like that?" Dean asked incredulously. He had been expecting to have to sign forms that promised he wasn't a felon and all of that stuff.

"Yeah, we're pretty laid-back around here. I'm sure I'll have you sign some papers later, but right now, I don't care." Rufus shrugged, scribbling on a piece of paper about the Honda.

"Well alright," Dean breathed, trying to hide his grin.

"Well alright," Rufus echoed, holding out a hand to shake Dean's. "You've got yourself a job, son. Show up the first Monday of the New Year and we'll get you going."

"Alright, I'll be here," Dean responded, shaking the old man's hand. "Thank you, Rufus."

Cas was waiting for him at the impala, a grin on his face, and Dean's jacket in his lap. "Did you get it?"

"I... I did," Dean stuttered. "I don't know how, but I did."

Cas laughed and wrapped an arm around his neck, giving him an awkward side hug, the best the car would allow, and a press of his hand into Dean's side. "That's awesome! Come on, pick where you want to eat, I'm buying."

"Cas, you don't have-"

"Yes, I do." Cas snapped. "You just got a job, I'm buying you congratulatory lunch. Come on, pick a place before I pick one for you."

.

...

.

New Years came pretty fast after that. Dean had to drive Sam out to the mall once because he ripped his last pair of pants and they needed to buy him more, and they ended up out for a whole day, eating lunch at a diner and getting ice cream later. On a different day, when his phone lit up and it was Cas, while Dean was cleaning the house for the fiftieth time.

_Incoming call from Blue Eyes White Dragon,_

"Hello?"

"Hello? Dean? This is Dean, right? Dean?"

Dean put his brush down, from where he had been cleaning off the stove, something about his tone igniting a worry in Dean's stomach. "Yeah. Cas?"

"Yeah. Yeah. That's me." He sounded out of breath.

"Are you alright?" Dean asked, washing his hands off and drying them on his jeans.

"I'm, I'm, uh, I'm-" Cas stuttered, and Dean paused at the door. He obviously wasn't okay. "Panic. Panic attack, I'm having a, uh-"

_Shit._ His heart moved into double time."It's okay, here, Cas, are you sitting down?"

"No, no I can't, I can't do that, I can't sit-"

"Cas." Dean said, voice steady, trying to keep himself calm for Cas's sake. "Cas, sit down and put your head between your knees. Take deep breaths, best as you can. Focus on one thing. Sound of my voice. Focus on that."

"Okay. Okay. Okay. I am."

"Are you at home, Cas?"

"Yes." The clipped answer was startling, and Dean took a second to try to figure out what Cas needed. Maybe he could get someone to help him?

"Is there anyone else home?"

"Um, um, no, no I don't think so, Dean, I can't, I can't-"

"Okay, Cas, just keep breathing." Plan B, then. "I'll be there in five minutes. Just keep breathing, okay? Do you want me to stay on the phone with you?"

"N-no, it's okay. I'll be okay. It'll be okay. Don't... Don't talk and drive," his voice was scratchy and terrible.

"Okay, keep breathing, don't move, alright?" Dean said carefully, grabbing his keys and shoving his feet into his shoes.

"Okay. Okay. Hurry," Cas said, and then the line went dead.

Dean ran for the door, accidentally slipping on his jacket and ramming his shoulder into the door. Sam, who was on the couch, jumped so high he slipped off the couch.

"Jesus!" He shouted. "Calm down. What's with you? Whoa, where are you going?"

"Cas is having a panic attack. I need to..." Dean wasn't sure what he needed to do. He just knew he needed to be there.

"Oh, my god, go," Sam said. "Go on! Go! I'll be fine here. Let me know if he's alright."

Dean nodded, and ran out the door.

He drove entirely too fast, and it still took too long. By the time he parked in front of the Novak house and ran up the walk and threw himself up the steps, it felt like it had been a million years, and he wondered if Cas felt the same.

He didn't bother knocking, just threw the door open and hollered, "Cas!"

There was a deafening pause, and then, "Dean?" The hoarse voice came from somewhere further on in the house, and Dean hurried through the rooms, trying to find the boy. There was an open door by the stairs that he hadn't noticed before, but it led to another hall, and there were a couple doorways, a bathroom, and bedroom, a library-

"Cas!" Dean gasped, finding the boy in the library, his back up against the wall near the door, head between his knees and cell phone discarded next to him, still unlocked. Dean locked it and shoved it in his pocket, kneeling next to the boy and wondering what to do. "Cas, Cas, buddy."

"Can't," Cas gasped. "I can't Dean, it's too, there's too much, and I can't fucking _breathe_, there's just too much to even..."

"It's okay, it's okay," Dean stammered, pushing his way between Cas's legs and pulling his head up, cupping his palms to the boy's cheeks and staring into his eyes. "Just look at me. Just like that, good. Just focus on the sound of my voice. Don't think about anything else, just focus, match your breathing to mine, okay? Just in, and out. In, and out. There you go. You got it. I'm right here. I'm right here."

Cas nodded weakly, his watery eyes flicking back and forth between Dean's. His hands had found Dean's wrists and he was holding his hands against his face. His cheeks were burning against Dean's hands.

"Do you know what brought it on?" Dean asked, wondering if that was going to help or not.

"No, no, I mean, yes I do, but I can't, not I can't talk about it while, I mean, it'll make it worse and oh god I can't, there's no, there's no fucking air in this room, I can't, just _fuck_-"

"Cas." Dean's voice was calm and steady. Cas sucked in a deep breath. "Breathe with me, okay? There's plenty of air. Just focus on my breathing. Breathe with me."

Dean took deep breaths, _in-two-three-four, out-two-three-four-five-six. In-two-three-four, out-two-three-four-five-six._ Their eyes had collided and held, and neither of them was going to look away. He could see all of the pain and panic in the boy's electric blue eyes. When Sammy was younger every once in a while he would have a panic attack and this is was Dean would do, take deep breaths and have Sam match him until the boy was calm again.

After at least five minutes, Cas relaxed his grip and slumped against Dean, his face hiding in his shoulder as the blue-eyed boy's shoulders shook. Dean shifted so they could be more comfortable, pulling the boy sideways so his whole side, shoulder to hip, was pressed against Dean. He had one knee behind Cas's back and the other one down under his knees, and his arms wrapped around the boy's midsection. Cas huddled himself into Dean's chest, his head pressed against his shoulder and chest. Dean tucked his face down into his hair, rubbing a hand over his back and his shoulders.

"How you doing?" The Winchester asked into Cas's hair, his lips_ maybe_ touching his head. If they did, no one needed to know.

"Eh," Cas breathed, still sounding out of breath. "Better."

"If you can't talk about it, that's totally fine. But if you want to, I'm here, okay?" Dean said softly. Cas nodded against his chest, his hands holding on to Dean's arm.

They stayed like that for a while, both just breathing, until Dean thought that maybe he might fall asleep. But then Cas mumbled, "It's just... We have a gig tonight. First one in a while. And my throat hurts, and I was feeling anxious and I didn't know what to do... I just guess it was all pent up and I didn't know..."

"It's okay," Dean murmured into his hair. "Shhh, it's okay. It's okay."

Cas nodded a little bit, taking deep breaths and tightening his fingers on Dean's arm. He would probably have bruises, but there wasn't a chance in hell that he was going to tell Cas to stop.

Trying to come up with a distraction for him, Dean suggested, "Cas, do you want to come back to my house? We could make pie, or watch a movie or something."

Cas's head came up, his eyes finding Dean's. "Yeah, I do-wait, shit. I have to..." He closed his eyes and scrunched his face up, like he was trying to regain control of himself. "I have to clean the instruments and pack the van. You think... Maybe you could look at it?"

"Absolutely," Dean said, helping him up. "Lead the way."

Cas stumbled out the door, and Dean held out a hand for him, for balance. Cas took it and leaned on him as they headed out to the garage.

Someone had pulled the van into the driveway, and Dean pushed the hood open, looking down into the engine. It looked like it hadn't been cleaned in fifty years, and a few things were only haphazardly connected. Dean furrowed his brow.

"Can you fix it?" Cas asked, his voice a little shaky, and Dean turned to see him carrying an amp and a guitar case towards the van. He loaded it in the back.

"Yeah, I can fix it. She's old, I can't guarantee that she wont break down again, but if she does I'd be able to fix her. Can I use your guys' tools?" Dean pointed at the tool rack pushed up half behind a bookshelf.

"Be my guest," Cas said, flicking dials and things on a stereo until it started playing a radio station.

"Is this… okay?" Dean asked, gesturing towards the boy, trying to talk about the panic without really talking about it.

Cas nodded, his eyes locked in Dean's. "Distractions." He said simply.

Dean gave him a _good point_ look, and set to work pulling out the tools he would need. He sent a text out to Sam really quickly that said, _at the Novaks, working on their car. Cas is doing all right. I'll let you know about dinner. _

In a minute and a half he had a response, and all it said was _*Alright. _

Dean fondly rolled his eyes and set to work in the van with a rag and a wrench. It was dirty, hot work, but the music was good and loud and halfway through Cas set a soda on the ground next to him, which was cold and sweet and nice. He hummed along to some of the songs, and sang others. Once or twice Cas belted out a whole song, and Dean tried not to laugh the whole time. Every once in a while he got sidetracked by the way Cas danced between the garage and the car, or the way his muscles flexed while he tried to get a particularly heavy amp into the car, but then Cas would catch him staring and he would blush and bury his head in the car again, elbow deep in grease and grime.

He was just about done when a car pulled up and Gabriel jumped out, followed by Samandriel and Lucifer. They wandered up the driveway, observing what was happening with curious eyes.

Dean didn't notice them until the back of someone's hand struck his ass and he yelped, jumping up and slamming his head into underside of the hood. For a minute he thought it was Cas, but when he turned around Gabriel was standing there, smirking and leaning against the car.

"Hey, Dean-o. Whatcha doing at mi casa?"

"Just fixing up your shitty van," Dean said, rubbing his head and glancing around to see Cas and Lucifer lugging the drum set together into the back of the van. Samandriel was hovering behind Gabriel, looking like he wasn't sure what to do, his head turned back and staring at the car, and looking like he had just got off work. He wore a striped red and white shirt and a red cap that read Wiener Hut.

"Hey Samandriel, when's that twerp going to be here?" Lucifer called from where he was watching Cas shift the amp into a better position.

Samandriel turned, his eyebrows raised, and he stuttered, "Uh, he's… probably like now. He knows when I get off work."

"Speaking of the devil," Gabriel said, his head turned and watching down the street. Dean lifted his head to see a kid biking as fast as he could up the sidewalk, panting hard. He ditched the bike in the driveway and sprinted up the length of the car, launching himself into Samandriel's arms.

"Samandriel!" He shouted, and Dean's eyebrows shot up. _What a small world._

"Adam!" Samandriel laughed, spinning him around. "It's been a while. Hey I have the thing inside, wanna see it?"

"Absolutely, why do you think I was going so fast?" Adam panted, and Samandriel grinned, turning around and sprinting inside, Adam on his heels.

"I know that kid," Dean laughed a little. "Met him in church Christmas Eve."

Gabriel turned around, eyebrows raised and Cas stopped in his tracks. "You go to our church?" Gabriel asked incredulously. "I never pegged you for the religious type, Dean-o."

"I'm not, really. Just went to the Christmas eve service because Sam wanted to go," Dean mumbled, dropping his eyes into the engine again. "I, uh, this is done. She'll be good for a while. Call me if she goes wrong again," He said, and then he shut the hood and walked back to the garage to put the stuff away. His good white shirt was all stained and greasy and he was covered in grease and oil and such, but he sort of just wanted to go home. He was feeling like everyone was staring at him, and he hated that feeling. He hated being put on the spot. So he put the stuff all back where it belonged and turned back around to tell Cas goodbye, but as he turned around he ran smack into Gabriel, with Lucifer right behind him. Cas was hovering behind them.

"Dean-o," Gabriel said, offering him a lollipop. Dean shook his head and made a move to go around him, but Gabriel held a hand up. "You were one of the coolest people at that damn party. Want to come to the next one?"

Dean couldn't help but perk up at the idea. He had a lot of good memories from the first one, and his eyes absent-mindedly flashed to Cas, who almost looked like he was leaning forwards with anticipation.

"Um, what day?" Dean asked.

"New Years Eve. Gonna all count down and everything. Bring your brother too, eh? Tell him just to text me if he's coming." Gabriel said, and he grinned. "See you there, Dean," He winked, as if he knew that Dean would be powerless to resist coming to this party, and then flounced into the house.

Lucifer, who had been hovering over them like a shadow, gave him an unreadable look and followed Gabriel inside.

"What was that about?" Dean asked Cas, still watching the closed door.

"With Lucifer? Oh, I think he doesn't know how to feel about you yet. He's a little bit weird. I'm sure he'll warm up, though, don't worry about it. So are you coming to the party?"

Dean smiled. "Of course."

.

…

.

Sam, of course, wanted to go. As soon as Dean told him about it he was texting Gabriel, and he decided not to ask when he got his number. Dean laughed and went to make dinner.

When it was finally time to go to the party, Sam was just about ripping at the seams. He didn't eat his dinner, just picked at it, while Dean stared at him in confusion. Since when was Sam not hungry at dinner?

Then the doorbell clicked, and Sam just about flew from his seat to answer it, and Dean suddenly understood. Sam disappeared behind the wall for a few seconds, opening the door and greeting whoever was there, and then he reappeared, Jess at his side, wearing a huge smile.

"Hey, Dean," Jess said, smiling.

"Hey, Jess, you coming tonight?"

"Yeah, Sam invited me," She grinned, biting her lip a little bit.

Dean caught Sam's eyes, wondering what Gabriel would think of this. He seemed to be a little bit smitten with his little brother, and might be a _little _bit jealous if Sam showed up with a girl. But he didn't want to say anything, so he didn't. "Jess, did you eat?"

"I did, this time, actually. Thanks for offering, though."

Dean finished his dinner quickly and cleaned up so they could climb in the car. Jess and Sam sat in the back seat, and Dean drove them to the Novak house.

"Are you really friends with Gabriel?" Jess asked Sam as they were getting out of the car, and Dean could hear the smile in her voice. The house was already spilling light and music into the yard. Dean couldn't help but smile. He had an excited feeling in his stomach. This was the first time he had been out of the house for New Years.

Dean missed Sam's response as he opened the door, washing them in music and laughing and light. There was only a single light on in each room, and then someone had put up colored lights around the edges of every room, giving everyone a creepy shadowy look. More than half of the people had huge grins, and they had flashing colored lights in their mouths, which was really creepy and really cool at the same time. It looked like a rave.

Someone collided with Dean from the side, and he turned his head to see Cas's dark hair. The boy had an arm wrapped around him and the other hand had a red solo cup in it. Dean grabbed it before he could spill, trying not to laugh too much.

"Hey, Cas!" He shouted over the sound, and Cas just responded by laughing in his ear. He grabbed Dean's hand and took him through the living room to where a group of people were playing never have I ever, beers in their hands. Cas pressed one into Dean's palm, a grin on his face. Dean couldn't help but smile.

"Never have I ever… Had sex," Someone shouted, and a smattering of people took sips from their drinks. Dean was one of them, and so was Cas, who avoided eye contact with Dean. Before he could say anything, the next person was speaking.

"Never have I ever had _gay _sex," They said, their eyes shifting around the circle, looking mischievous. A smaller amount of people took sips from their drinks, two girls standing next to each other and refusing to meet eyes, a random girl looking vaguely proud, Gabriel, that one wasn't too surprising, two guys looking quite guilty, Cas, a girl with-

_Cas? _Dean's eyebrows hit his hairline, head spinning back to look at the singer. He pulled his cup away from his lips and winked at Dean, who just about choked on air.

"Never have I ever had a new year's kiss," The girl next to Dean called out, and Dean and Cas, neither of whom had broken the eye contact, and the two boys stared at each other, waiting to see if the other one would take a drink of their drink. Neither of them did, and Dean winked, turning back to the circle and shouting out his contribution.

"Never have I ever been to a New Years party before tonight."

Almost everyone took a drink, including Cas. "Really?" He mumbled, and Dean nodded. "That's sad, I'm sorry."

Dean shrugged, an easy grin stretching across his face. "I've been to one now."

Cas giggled, and then turned and called out, "Never have I ever been in a musical."

Dean didn't drink, trying to decide if the time that he and Sam tried to reenact the entirety of Les Miserables as a two man show counted. It hadn't worked out, so Dean assumed that it didn't count.

"Never have I ever broken a bone," Drink.

"Never have I ever danced dirty with someone," Drink.

"Never have I ever had dirty thoughts about a teacher," Drink.

"Never have I ever done dirty things with a teacher," Pass.

"Never have I ever smoked," Pass.

"Never have I ever danced in my underwear," _"Does just topless count?" "Yes." _Drink.

By the time the game broke apart, Dean had gone through at _least _three beers. He grabbed himself a screwdriver and wandered to the living room, wondering where Cas had gotten himself. Dean slid into the cushions of the couch, sipping his drink and watching the lights and the people dance around. He could see Benny dancing with some girl, probably his girl… Andean? Angelica? Something like that. He could see Sam and Jess dancing together, grins wide and faces flushed. Lucifer was dancing with some guy, and behind them Adam and Samandriel were sitting next to each other, watching the party and laughing to each other. Gabriel was sitting on the edge of the room, looking genuinely lost in thought, and there were also a ton of people that Dean didn't know, dancing and grinding and laughing and singing.

Dean finished his drink and (after retrieving and finishing a second drink), went to put his cup down. As soon as the bottom of the cup touched the table, a hand fisted in his shirt and he was dragged to his feet, startling and overcompensating, which crashed the whole front of his body against his attacker. He was plastered chest-to-chest and hip-to-hip with Cas, whose eyes darted down to his lips for a fraction of a second before he whispered huskily, "let's dance," And suddenly they were.

The music was loud, the lights were low, and Cas's body was hot against Dean. It was too much to take in, Dean's fingers on Cas's hips, sliding around and under to his deliciously smooth back, the muscles tightening at Dean's cold fingers. Hips knocking, groins grinding together, and a low moan in Dean's ear. Hot breath on Dean's neck, and fingers digging into his chest.

Please leave all overcoats, canes and top hats with the doorman

_From that moment you'll be out of place and underdressed_

Cas swayed his hips against Dean's, his hands holding him tight against him so he had no choice but to try to keep up with him. Everything was spinning around them, making Dean feel like they were the only two in the room.

Talk to the mirror, oh! Choke back tears

_And keep telling yourself that, _

_I'm a diva! _

Cas pulled his face away from Dean's neck just enough that they could lock eyes, and then neither of them were going to look away. Eyes dug into each other, blue on green and green on blue. Dean couldn't tear his eyes away, and the two of them had slowed, but he didn't care. Cas smirked and began to quietly sing along to the song blasting around them.

"_I'm the new cancer, you can't stand it,_

_Because you said so under your breath,_

_You're reading lips_

'_When did he get all confident?'" _

Dean grinned at him, and Cas couldn't keep singing through his smile.

The song ended and a new song started, but it didn't matter to Dean what music was on anymore. All that mattered was the glorious press of Cas's body against his own.

Dean could have danced with him all night, and he probably would have, except suddenly someone was pushing them apart and shouting about how the New Year was five minutes away.

Someone had changed the TV to the live footage of the New Year's ball falling, and the thousands of people all crammed together in Times Square.

Cas got a terrified look on his face, and turned around and disappeared.

Dean felt a crushing weight fall on his chest. He hadn't realized how much it meant to him that it seemed like the boy had wanted to spend the first moments of the New Year with him, that maybe he wanted to be his first New Year's kiss, that maybe he was interested. A lump formed in his throat, and he swallowed over and over, trying to get it to go away. It wouldn't. Not for the million years that seemed to pass in the next two or three minutes.

A hand knocked into his arm, and he spun around, hope bubbling up in his chest. And it wasn't in vain, Cas stood there, grinning, with two drinks in his hands. "Thought you would want a drink for when the ball falls."

Dean almost kissed him right there, but he managed to avoid it by snagging one of the drinks and taking a sip, winking over the lip of the cup.

"Don't drink all of it," Cas laughed, touching a hand to Dean's wrist, and Dean blamed the tingle he felt on the alcohol.

"Forty!" Someone in the crowd yelled with the countdown on the TV, and everyone cheered and joined in. Dean turned to the screen to watch, a smile bubbling on his face and in his chest. He could see Jess and Sam near the front, and Sam had an arm around her. He felt a little rush of pride.

"Ten!"

"Nine!" Cas laced his fingers with Dean's, squeezing hard.

"Eight!" Dean turned his face and grinned at the blue-eyed boy.

"Seven!" Cas winked and grabbed Dean's cup, turning around and whipping his head around.

"Six!" Dean watched, confused, as Cas pushed a couple feet away, towards the coffee table.

"Five!" He set the cups down and spun around again, grabbing Dean's hand and dragging him close.

"Four!" All Dean could feel was Cas, his hands and his breath and his chest up against his and his-

"Three!" Cas shouted the number out and Dean laughed, joining in.

"Two!"

"One!"

"_HAPPY NEW YEAR!" _The room exploded, people firing off party poppers and shouting and tackling each other, and Dean was pushing forward and so was Cas and their mouths collided, teeth clashing and breath mixing and hands clutching.

It was messy and rushed. It was fantastic. It was the first time Dean every kissed someone like that, like he was discovering and exploring and being discovered and explored.

Then Cas was laughing, and he pushed their drinks back into their hands, clinked the glasses, and drank as Dean did.

There was more dancing until the morning hours, but nothing as amazing and hot as how they danced before. But the _whole _party danced, so there was jumping around in a huge group, laughing with random strangers, and music so loud that Dean thought his ears might blow. It was awesome.

Eventually, though, someone cranked the music way down and hollered about complaints from the neighbors, so the dancing died down, and Dean noticed Cas yawning.

"You ready to sleep?" He asked, and Cas shrugged sleepily. Dean grinned and led him upstairs and into bed. He was going to leave, but then Cas grabbed his hand and yanked him down under the sheets as well, pressing his body up next to his.

Cas stared at him, looking content and sleepy. "Who _are _you, Dean Winchester?"

"I'm your friend. We're friends." Dean said, happy about that. He enjoyed being friends with this boy.

Cas stared at him, his eyes squinting a little bit. "Friends that make out, sometimes."

Dean grinned, suggesting, "Friends with Benefits?"

An honest, excited smile spread across Cas's face. "Friends with Benefits, then."

"Alright," Dean whispered, watching the blue eyes flutter closed and feeling Cas's heartbeat in his neck.

Friends with Benefits. Well, alright.

.

…

.

Cas woke Dean up the next morning, and they climbed out of bed together, Dean battling with a vicious hangover, but Cas didn't seem so bad.

"How are you not dead right now," Dean demanded, drinking slowly out of a tall glass of water.

"Family trait," Cas smiled a little bit. "We've never been hangover people. Gabriel doesn't get it at all, and I'm only a little bit bad, then I have food and it's fine."

"Ugh," Dean groaned, rubbing his face. "I feel like I've been microwaved."

Cas chuckled as he started a giant plate of eggs, and Dean wandered off to find Sam. There were people scattered everywhere, sleeping in blankets and on the couch and someone was even on the table. Sam and Jess were both up already, shoving red solo cups into a black bag with Gabriel.

"Morning, Dean." Sam laughed.

"Hey Sam. How are you?"

"I'm great," Dean said sarcastically. "We need to get home. And I gotta get you home," Dean pointed at Jess, "So your parents don't start to worry."

Jess nodded and shrugged a little bit. "Okay."

Sam finished filling his bag, and Dean hurried back to the kitchen. "Bye, Cas," He mumbled, and Cas spun around.

"Oh. Bye, Dean. Just tell me if you want to… hang out." He let it hang, leaving plenty to the imagination, his gorgeous blue eyes locked on Dean.

Dean's face flushed, and he nodded. "Bye."

"Bye," Cas sang, and Dean hurried away. Sam and Jess were pulling on their shoes, and then they left the quiet house and climbed in the Impala.

The ride wasn't quiet like Dean wanted it to be. Sam and Jess gushed about the party, about the music and the lights and something about party poppers, but Dean wasn't paying attention. He was half-dragged away by the pain gathered behind his left eye, and the rest of the way distracted by the memory of Cas's lips on his.

Jess waved goodbye from her front step, and Sam waved back, a little sigh escaping him. Dean chuckled, and his brother smacked him in the back of the head, but he could see the blush in the rearview mirror.

"Did you have fun?" Dean asked, turning off of Jess's street, headed home.

"Yeah. It was awesome." Sam mused. Dean could hear his smile.

"Did you kiss that girl yet?" The older brother demanded, eyes flicking to Sam. Sam went even redder, and Dean grinned, taking it as a yes. "Awwww, wook at wittle Sammy, all gwown up!" He joked, and Sam hit him again.

They pulled up to the house laughing, and Dean climbed out of the car, trying to ignore the sun in his eyes. It hurt like a bitch, so he hurried for the door, ignoring Sam's call out to him from behind. He pushed the door open and stepped inside, his head finally coming up and eyes opening fully, and then his feet were suddenly slamming to a stop. His breath caught in his chest and his back straightened, ignoring the spike of pain in his brain.

"Dean? What are you…" Sam trailed off, and Dean knew exactly why.

Because standing in the middle of the living room…

"Hey boys," John Winchester said, his eyes hard and a forced little smile on his face. "Did you have a nice night out?"

…

**Thanks for reading guys! Please leave me a review, its hard to know if I should keep busting my butt to try and get it out if I don't know that anyone likes it…**

**I can't update Fridays anymore; I'm going to have to move it to Sunday. Sunday is the new update day! Thanks for being patient, guys. I love you!**

**Hugs and kisses, **

**-Sami**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks for all the kind words. Here's the next chapter! Enjoy! And uh, good luck. **

.

…

Dean pocketed his keys, trying not to make eye contact with his dad. The man watched his every move as he pulled on his boots and his jacket. He wanted his dad to ask where he got them, wanted him to notice. For once, he wanted his dad to care about his life. To be present.

He didn't say anything about the clothes.

"Where are you going?" He asked as Sammy hurried towards the door and grabbed his jacket as well.

"School," Dean responded, running a hand through his hair and trying to pretend that the fact his dad couldn't figure out that they were going to _school _just like they had every day for years.

"Hm," John mused, watching quietly. Dean hated it. He hated the whole feeling that he was being watched, judged, that John was picking him apart with his stare.

"Bye," He managed, trying to keep himself from exploding, and then stepped out the door, away from that house, away from that man. He felt kind of sick.

Sam didn't say anything in the car. Dean had forgotten the Novak disc _and_ the AUX cord in his haste to get out of the house, so the ride was quiet.

Finally Dean managed, "I have work today."

Sam gasped a little bit, seemingly glad to be pulled out of his thoughts, probably similar to Dean's, all about their dad. "Right! I totally forgot. Are you ready?"

Dean shrugged one shoulder. "I guess. I just… I don't want to leave you alone with Dad."

Sam took an even, calculated breath, as if steadying himself. "I'll be alright. Or… I mean I could come to the garage with you? Just walk around the neighborhood, maybe, or I could hang out in the Impala and do my homework…"

"That sounds good. Gotta make sure Dad is okay with it, though."

"Right," Sam mumbled. He had forgotten that their father had to give him permission.

"I'll call him at lunch," Dean decided as they parked and got out of the car, and Sam nodded. "I'll see you."

"Bye."

Dean walked quickly to first hour, his arms tingling with irritation. Why did his dad have to show up _now? _Things were finally seeming to get better; they had _friends. _Usually they didn't have that.

Dean sighed, stopping at the door of his Chemistry class. The teacher hadn't seen him yet, was it really necessary? He hesitated, rocking back and forth on his heels, before spinning and walking in the complete opposite direction.

The sky was cloudy, the grey darkening in some places and not in others. Dean pushed himself onto the bricks and pulled out a fresh sheet of paper, sketching out the way the sky looked behind the football stadium.

"Can I see?"

Dean's head shot up, a grin stretching across his face as he saw Jimmy. He was pushing a girl in a wheelchair, her eyes hidden behind thick sunglasses and her head drooping. Dean wasn't sure if she was even awake.

"Hey."

"Hi. Can I see your drawing?" Jimmy said, leaning on the bricks, his shoulder brushing Dean's knee. Dean hesitated, but then spun it around, sliding it down his knees so the boy could look at it.

"Who's this?" Dean asked, smiling at the girl. She didn't smile back, but he head came up a little bit.

"Oh, this is Pamela. Don't bother smiling; she can't see you. She's blind and mute. She's in our special ed class."

"Why are you…" Dean motioned pushing her around. Jimmy chuckled.

"First period I volunteer in the special ed room. That's why it's so easy to ditch all the time, or just get out of class. For instance, Pamela here seems to only like me, so if she's not cooperating, they call me down there from any class. I can just fake the call and get out of anything."

Pamela smiled, and her hand lifted a little bit. Jimmy grinned and grabbed her hand, his grin getting wider as she squeezed his hand. "Pamela, this is Dean," Jimmy introduced, and Pamela reached out a hand for Dean to shake. When he grabbed her delicate hand, she suddenly gripped tighter, yanking him down towards her. He stumbled awkwardly off the ledge, his pencil and his paper fluttering to the ground. She held his hand to her shoulder, and held another hand out, palm up.

"Oh," Jimmy said, diving for the bag on the back of her chair.

"What does she want?"

"She wants to talk to you," He explained, putting and pencil in her hand and smoothing a notebook out in front of her.

She grabbed it, and then scribbled out in surprisingly legible script, _Hello, Dean. How are you? _

Dean smiled. "I'm alright, how are you?"

_Peachy. _She scrawled. _Being blind is my favorite thing. And of course the whole not talking thing sucks. _

Jimmy chuckled as he read the words on the paper. Dean frowned a little. "Yeah, that does kind of suck."

_I make do. I still get to meet all the nice guys. You, Jimmy, I even met Castiel once! _

Dean glanced at Jimmy, ignoring how his face heated at the complement. "Cas visited here?"

Jimmy nodded. "He was dropping something off for Gabriel. He really didn't need to do it, but he was doing it to be nice. He wanted Gabriel to be happy with him." Jimmy hesitated a little bit. "Castiel is really… He's not what he seems, you know."

"Hm?" Dean's eyes came up to meet Jimmy's, and he let out a breath when he remembered that he couldn't see his eyes through the dark glasses.

"He just… He's really broken. I know he pretends not to be, but he really just wants someone to be there, you know?"

Dean tried to ignore the feeling that he wanted to be there for Cas forever. He felt a sudden rush of affection for Jimmy, without much reason. He was glad that he was telling Dean this stuff. It was nice of him.

_I haven't met Gabriel yet. _Pamela wrote. _But I promise you, one day, I will. _

Dean snorted, and Jimmy laughed. "Alright, Pamela, let's get you back to the room. It's cold out here."

Pamela shrugged a little bit, but allowed him to take the notebook and pencil and put them back in the bag. "Bye, Dean," Jimmy said, and Pamela waved. It was a little in the wrong direction, but that was okay.

"Bye," Dean said, and he watched as they walked away. The picture burned itself into his mind, Jimmy trudging away in his long coat, pushing Pamela along. He snapped a quick picture, but ended up not using it at all. He sketched it out from memory and then shaded for the whole hour, until the bell rang. He finished it in his next class. It would be a nice thing to give to Jimmy next time he saw him.

.

…

.

Dean pulled in to the garage lot, glancing nervously at Sam. He wanted his little brother to approve of it. That's all he really ever seemed to want. He just wanted his little brother to approve and be proud of him.

Sammy had a smile stretched across his face that lit up the car, and Dean had trouble not grinning as well. A feeling of levity filled his chest.

He parked by the side of the building and jumped out, heading to the building as Sam stretched his body comfortably across the seats of the Impala.

Rufus spotted Dean straight away, grinning and waving him over. "Gotcha a thing," Rufus announced, holding up a shirt in one hand and a nametag in the other. "Pick one, and we'll go with that," He clarified, and Dean went for the nametag. Rufus handed it to him and watched as Dean hung it out of the pocket of his jeans, readable, but not obvious. Dean shed his jacket and hung it up, and Rufus immediately set him to work on a green Toyota sequoia. It had been put up on its risers, about Dean's height, and Dean nervously slid underneath it.

He tore out the broken part as quick as he could and then went to the back for the replacement, wiping the sweat off the back of his neck. It took him longer to install it, making sure all of the parts were together and nothing was going to fall apart again. Every time the car moved at all he would freeze, eyes wide and heart pounding. He could feel goosebumps on his arms, but he refused to acknowledge it. He was strong, he could get through anything.

That didn't mean he wasn't glad to get out from underneath the six thousand pound car, though. He hung up his wrench and took a deep breath, wiping his sweat off with a rag. They had a whole laundry basket full of clean rags, and an laundry basket double the size full of dirty ones.

"What's wrong, boy?" Rufus asked as he handed him a paper to fill out about the car. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Dean didn't respond right away, focusing on the paper and making his handwriting legible. Finally he managed, "Ever had one of these fall?"

"The car?" Rufus asked, incredulous. "No. Never heard of that happening, except one, Singer Salvage at the edge of town. Super weird, they don't fall on their own, unless you don't secure them. And the guy wasn't stupid; no way he'd forget to secure it. Bad luck too, got the guy good. He didn't make it. He was a good guy, really. Everyone called him an old drunk but he was a great guy. He had two kids with him for awhile, I think… Benny Singer, I think." Rufus mused.

_Bobby._ Dean's throat was tightening up; he couldn't get the word out to correct the old man.

"I met the kids once. Little guys that looked like they had seen too much for their age. And that was before even the accident. A shame, really. They probably could have turned out great."

_We will turn out great, _Dean promised himself angrily. _We will. _

"Are you going to hurl, man?" Rufus asked. "You don't look so good. You ain't squeamish, are ya?"

"No, no," he choked out, coughing and clearing his throat. "I um, hm."

"Alright, whatever. Go talk to Ash, he's got a couple cars down there."

Dean threw himself into the work, trying to forget about Bobby, even though whenever he looked at his hands buried in an engine all he could see were Bobby's hands, showing him what wires to move and which tube connected to what adaptor. Ash rambled, talking about his life and the last movie he saw and how he always wanted to be a computer hacker but no one seemed to want to pay him for that job, and Dean didn't talk. He just listened, listened to Ash or Rufus or the music playing from the office or the customers explaining what kind of sound their car was making. He realized something, when he had his hands buried in the guts of a Ford Contour. He was in his element. This was where he fit in. He didn't fit in at school, or really at the Novak parties. Really he wouldn't have any fun there if it weren't for Cas. But here, this was where he was meant to be. An easy smile spread across his face, the feeling of levity that had vanished in all the talking about Bobby replacing itself, filling every crack in his chest and making him swell with pride. He finally found it. Somewhere to belong.

.

…

.

"Dean," Ash called, an hour before the end of his third shift, Thursday night. He was feeling great. Home was awful because their dad did nothing but sit on the couch and drink whiskey and snap at them, and school was, well, school, but at least Jimmy was there. The garage cheered up his days. Wednesday had been awful, his first day off and he had to deal with being in the house with Dad all day, but today was better. Sam came with him to the garage every day, lounging on the hood of the Impala and using it as a recliner in the sun, his earbuds in and eyes closed. "There's a guy in the lot. He asked for you by name."

_By name?_ Who did he know that knew he worked here? He could only think of Cas and Sam. Maybe it was Sam. Had he introduced Ash to Sam, yet? He was pretty sure that he had. So it had to be Cas, then. A lazy smile stretched across his cheeks as he rounded the corner, hand raising to wave to the singer, and-

Dead stop. Ice filled his veins, and his back straightened in a _yes, sir, _motion.

"Dean," John said, his eyes hard.

"Hi, Dad," He managed. "How come you're here?"

"You didn't tell me where you were going," His dad snapped, and Dean flinched.

"I thought I did, I have a job now-"

"I'm taking Sammy home," John interrupted him, eyebrows low. "Find your own way of dinner. Sam and I are eating the rest of the pasta."

_Now you're trying to bond? Just so you can purposely leave me out?_ Dean thought, annoyed. It wasn't fair. He had a job; he shouldn't be getting punished fort this.

"Give me the keys to the Impala, Dean," John ordered, and Dean stiffened. His license was suspended, still! It was illegal for him to drive, and there was no way that he had the money to pay for the ticket if he were to get one.

"I can't, Dad," Dean breathed, his hand shoving in his pocket and closing around the keys. "You can't do that."

John's eyes narrowed and he leaned forward, getting in Dean's face. "You can't tell me what I can and can't do, Dean. I am your father. You will listen and obey what I say to you. Now give me your keys, Dean."

"Have you been drinking?" Dean asked. His breath smelled sour, like vodka and shitty breath mints.

John straightened up. "Give me the keys."

Now, Dean didn't usually stand up to his dad. He knew the consequences of his actions, and he had felt the pain of his father's hand before. He knew what would come to him. But he couldn't put Sammy in danger. He couldn't let his dad drive Sam while he was drunk.

So he straightened up, squared his shoulders, and said, "No. I can't let you drive if you've been drinking."

"Dean," John warned.

"_No, _Dad."

John's arm jumped, like he wanted to lash out, and Dean had to take a step back, his whole body closing in on itself. The memory of the pain was enough; he didn't even need the slap. Against his will, his hand come out of his pocket and handed the keys over, a tightness in his chest that he couldn't get rid of. John snagged them and sent Dean one last look, a look that told him that this wasn't over, and then he stalked away towards the car. Sam was just waking up, alarm overtaking his eyes when he saw John.

Dean couldn't watch, he had to go back into the garage. Panic was filling his chest, and he grabbed desperately for something to lean on. His hands found the edge of the tool bench and he leaned over it, filling his lungs one breath at a time, reminding himself that he was okay. It would be okay. Sammy would be fine.

"Dean? Are you alright?"

Dean nodded, swallowing. "Sorry. Just had a head rush. Think I stood up too fast."

Ash nodded. "Drink some water. There's a red car down on the end calling your name."

Dean nodded, taking another deep breath and heading for the car. It wasn't an easy fix, and Dean reveled in that, taking his time and sucking up the minutes with his head under the hood of a car.

The clock struck nine as he was finishing up the report on the car, and he hung up his nametag and grabbed his jacket. He would just have to walk home.

"Hey Dean," Ash called, "Where's your car?"

"My dad drove it home," Dean told him, leaning down to tie one of his shoes. "I'm just going to walk home."

"Don't you live down near the church?" Ash asked, stripping off his shirt and grabbing the one that he wore to work. "That's a long walk. You want a ride?"

Dean eyed the motorcycle that Ash drove. "Yeah, I guess."

It was awkward, because he was crowded up against Ash's back, but he made do. Besides, it was better than walking the whole way. It was a few miles.

The first weird thing was that the Impala wasn't in front of the house when Dean jumped off the back of the bike. He thanked Ash and watched him drive away, but he didn't notice that the car was gone. He didn't put it together.

Then it was the door. It was still locked, which was weird because why would they lock it if they were there? Sam always liked it unlocked when Dean was still out.

But lastly and most importantly, it was his phone. It was his phone, and it was ringing.

He dug it out of his pocket and answered the call, managing a, "Hello?" As he grabbed the key from under the mat and unlocked the door.

"Dean Winchester?"

He went still, the door swinging away from him. He knew. He just _knew_. She didn't even have to say a thing. Dean felt his lunch coming back up.

"Dean, are you there?"

"Yeah. Yes, this is Dean."

"Dean my name is Tallie, and I need to inform you that there's been an accident…"

She said more. That doesn't mean that Dean heard it, though. Words like stretcher, and EMT, and CPR, and blood tests. He could hardly hear her through the blood rushing in his ears. But he didn't hear the word dead. Or the dreaded hospital words, _he didn't make it. _

"And I think you should come down to the hospital straight away."

Dean nodded, even though she couldn't see him, and then hung up. How was he supposed to get there? The Impala was no doubt messed up, and god knows where. He didn't have Ash's number.

"Hello?"

Dean hadn't been aware that he had dialed someone's number, and he checked the screen. _Outgoing call to Blue Eyes White Dragon. _

"Dean?" Cas said. "Are you there?"

"Cas," Dean breathed. "Can you drive me somewhere?"

"What?" Cas chuckled a little bit. "I actually can't, though, sorry, I'm at a weird convention with Michael. What's wrong with the Impala?"

Dean didn't have time for this. He couldn't chat with Cas. "I'm sorry. Thanks anyways," He choked out, and then he hung up, dialing a new number.

"Dean-o. What's up?" Gabriel answered on the second ring.

"Gabriel, can you drive me somewhere?"

"Whoa, slow down. Yeah, I can. I'm sitting at home. How come?"

"I'll explain in the car," Dean promised. "Please, just come as fast as you can. It's an emergency."

Apparently the word emergency worked. Gabriel was pulling up to the curb in less than five minutes, and Dean leapt in the car.

"Where to?" Gabriel asked, turning the car around. "And if you say somewhere out of the country, I'm dropping you off on the railroad bridge and not coming back."

"The hospital," Dean got out, snapping his seatbelt into place.

Gabriel's mouth snapped shut. The older Winchester could see his jaw tighten. It was silent for a long time as he sped through the street.

"Where's Sammy?" Gabriel finally managed, his eyes locked on the road.

Dean didn't respond, which was response enough.

"_Fuck._"

Dean let out a sick laugh. "Yeah, fuck. Fuck everything. Because my fucking dad couldn't deal with his fucking life or pride and couldn't just realize that driving drunk was the worst thing to do, that he had his fucking fifteen year old son in the car, a boy who hasn't even been in high school for a year yet, and he couldn't fucking…"

Dean choked into silence, a tear streaking down his face. He scrubbed it away with the back of his hand.

"Are either of them d…" Gabriel couldn't finish the word, and Dean didn't blame him.

"I don't think so," He shook his head. "But I don't know."

Gabriel dropped him off in front of the ER and then went to find somewhere to park, leaving Dean to try to find the desk by himself. He clenched his jaw and walked as fast as he dared, flashes of memories from when he was here as a kid assaulting him.

"Can I help you?" The nurse at the desk asked.

"I'm Dean Winchester. My brother and m-my dad, John and Sam Winchester. Car crash. Where are they?" he demanded, his hand flat on the desk. She scanned through a piece of paper.

"Yes, John is in room forty two, Tracy here will take you there," She offered, gesturing to a pretty girl who made him wash his hands for five minutes and put on a weird smock. Then she led him down the hall to a small room, where she opened the door and held out a hand for Dean to go first. But he could see his dad in there, lying all bandaged and bloody in the stupid hospital bed, surrounded by wires and machines and the smell of antiseptic, and he knew that he didn't want to go inside.

"Where's Sam?" He demanded, turning his eyes on the girl.

"Sam? The boy who came in with John?"

"Yes, Sam. Is he okay? Tell me if he's okay. Where is he?"

"Sir, please sit down." She said carefully, her hand out like she was trying to calm him. The door fell closed and hid his father, and he was grateful.

"Just tell me where Sammy is."

"Are you his legal guardian?" She seemed way too patient. Dean wanted to grab her and shake her. She didn't understand the gravity of the situation.

"I'm his brother! And I might be if my fucking dad dies tonight!" Dean shouted. Everything was spiraling out of control, and he couldn't grab ahold of anything. The room felt like it was tilting to the side, and pretty soon Dean's feet were going to slip and he was going to slide right off the earth and spin into the stars until he couldn't breathe.

The nurse was infinitely patient. It occurred to Dean that she probably dealt with crazy people every day, and he was becoming one of those people that he hated. "I can't answer anything until you lower your voice. People are sick."

He took a deep breath, trying to steel himself. "Okay. I'm calm. Just tell me."

"Sam's blood test came back odd, so we took him in for a PET scan. We might get him a mammogram. We're worried about things found inside of him."

Dean's ears roared, and his legs tingled like he wanted to run but he couldn't get himself to. "What? What does that mean? Is he okay?"

"We're going to deliver the news if it's really true when you are with your brother. I would suggest you go sit with your father. He's in bad shape right now."

Dean reluctantly entered the room, and sat in the chair next to his dad's wimpy little white bed. The man didn't even twitch. The nurse checked the equipment and wrote a few things down. "We're afraid he's slipped into a coma. You can talk to him if you'd like."

She left the room, and Dean stared at John. There were a million things that he would say. Apologies, guilt, all the things weighing on his chest. But he couldn't do it. Instead, what came out was, "It's your fault. It's your fault that any of this is happening. It's your fault and I couldn't do a _thing _about it."

He sat in silence for the rest of the time, watching his dad's chest rise and fall, watching the machines and even the clock on the wall. It was eleven. He had school tomorrow. It seemed distant and ridiculous now, school. It made him want to laugh, but when he did laugh, it sounded like he was dying, so he stopped.

The sound of his phone ringing made him jump, and then instantly a sick feeling sunk into his stomach. What now? But no, it wasn't anything bad. _Incoming call from Blue Eyes White Dragon. _

"Hey, Cas," He breathed, sinking into his chair.

"Dean, oh my god, Gabriel just told me, I'm so sorry, I didn't know-"

"That's okay, Cas. You had no way of knowing," Dean allowed, bobbing his head a little bit and letting his eyes fall closed.

"Are they okay?"

"I don't know where Sam is. My dad is in a coma, I think. Sam is getting scans or something. That means he's alive. That means he's alive, right?"

"Yeah, he's alive." Cas said.

A doctor came into the room, and Dean jumped. "I have to go. I'll talk to you later," He said, and then he hung up.

"Sam?" Dean asked hopefully, his eyebrows high.

The doctor nodded, and Dean felt relief that almost knocked the wind out of him. "Come with me," The doctor said. Dean jumped up and followed, chewing on his lip.

The doctor opened a door for the room forty-nine, and Dean took a deep breath and went inside.

Sam was there, looking shaken and half asleep and in serious pain but _alive. _Dean wanted to hug him.

"So now that we have both of you in the room, there's something I need to tell you both. Since your father is in a coma we can tell him later." Dean leaned against the empty bed next to Sam's. He was glad that his brother and his dad hadn't been put in the same room, it wouldn't have been good.

"What?" Sam demanded. He looked pale and weak and scratched up. The bandage taped to his head made his hair stick up and looked ridiculous. Dean wanted to laugh, but he couldn't get himself to. He wasn't sure he would ever laugh again.

"We're afraid that we have some bad news."

Dean's chest went cold. He couldn't feel his fingers, and he could hardly hear through the ringing in his ears.

"What? What are you talking about?"

"Sam, we ran a blood test while you were unconscious, and then a PET scan and a mammogram. When-"

"Why? How are we going to pay for that?" Sam demanded.

"Let him talk, Sammy," Dean managed, and Sam stared at Dean, confused and concerned.

"When the tests came back, we found it in your breast, Sam. I'm afraid I have to inform you that you have carcinoma."

"Carcinoma?" Sam mumbled. He looked like he was reeling in shock. His eyes darted around, to the doctor, to Dean, to the door, to his hands, to his chest, back to Dean, back to the doctor- "Carcinoma?" He wanted an explanation.

"Cancer," Dean choked. It felt like his throat was closing up and he couldn't get it open. "You have breast cancer."

Sam didn't say anything, and the room blurred with Dean's tears, so he couldn't see his brother's reaction. Sam could die. Sammy might die.

"Fortunately, we discovered it rather early." The doctor continued. "There's a high chance that we can cure you."

"Cure...? What will that entail?" Sam stuttered. His breath sounded shaky. Dean found it a little bit easier to breathe, but it still felt like someone was squeezing his head from both sides.

"First, surgery to remove the cancer cells. We'll schedule you as soon as we can, and it would be better if you stayed in the hospital until then. Then we can give you Chemotherapy, and we'll continue to give you scans and such to make sure that it's gone. We can only officially announce you cured once you have been NEC for five years."

"NEC?"

"Basically cancer-free. It means No Evidence of Cancer."

Sam nodded slowly, looking almost like he was in a trance. "Am I going to die?"

"_No,_" Dean snarled, anger hitting him with a vengeance. He would not let his brother die. It wasn't going to happen. Not while Dean was still kicking.

"Not if we can help it," the doctor explained. "Of course, cancer is a lethal disease. It is not to be taken lightly."

Sam shook his head. "Of course not."

The doctor nodded and left the room, leaving Dean to sit down on the edge of Sam's bed. "You're going to be okay. I promise." He said.

"Don't make promises that aren't in your control, Dean," Sam said, sounding tired.

Dean didn't respond. He didn't know what to say, and apparently neither did Sam. They sat in silence for a while; both of them trying to think about things that they knew about cancer, but neither of them had anything worthy of saying out loud. Dean felt like he was going to throw up, and he wanted to be drunk. Not even just on alcohol. He wanted to be drunk on anything, on life or on laughter or on Cas or on working in the garage. He just wanted to be anywhere but in the situation that he found himself in. However, he was in the situation, and it wasn't going anywhere fast. With luck, the fastest it would be gone was five years. And _oh god, _where were they going to find the money for this? There goes Sam's chances of going to college… Dean wanted to vomit. He no longer felt like he was going to, but he wanted to.

Sam's hand brushed the back of Dean's as he grabbed onto the side of Dean's shirt, just like he used to do when they were young, pulling Dean out of his thought and launching him into memories instead. "I'm scared," He whispered.

And Dean put a hand on Sam's arm, just like he used to, rubbing a thumb back and forth. "I know. It's okay."

.

…

**Let me know what you think! Please, leave a review. They keep me motivated. **

**Hugs and kisses,**

**-Sami**


	6. Chapter 6

**Yes, I'm a few days late. I'm sorry. I'm also a little sorry for the chapter, it isn't the happiest. It will get better, I promise. Good luck, grab your tissues, and be prepared! **

.

…

For four days, Dean spent all of his time at the hospital. They moved Sam and John both to more permanent rooms, and it was a bit more of a walk to get from one room to another, since Dad was in a wing meant for comatose patients and Sam was on a different floor in a cancer wing. Dean didn't like walking through it, because there was always someone crying, or that one little girl sitting in a wheelchair with no hair and dead looking eyes that followed Dean as he walked past. She gave Dean the shivers, so he stopped making eye contact after his third time past. On Monday the teachers told him to go to school, but he couldn't tear himself away from Sam's side for long enough to go home and get his stuff and go to school. As much as he hated it there, he didn't want to leave.

The cafeteria food wasn't too bad, but it wasn't a five star meal, either. He would go down and buy some pastry in the morning, some random thing to eat at lunch, and then at night he would spend a half hour down there eating a full meal, only because Sam made him. "You're getting as skinny as me, and I have portioned meals," Sam joked, but Dean could see he was worried. So he choked down food.

Dad didn't wake up.

Dean made it a goal to spend at least ten minutes every two hours sitting with his dad, and it was hard. He talked to him about Sam, about what he was missing in school and about how much he missed Mom. And when he couldn't stand seeing the once-stoic man wasting away in the bed anymore, he would leave to talk to Sam again.

Cas called, but Dean never picked up. He would answer texts to tell him that they were both still alive, but he didn't want to talk to him. He didn't want to talk to anyone but Sam. No one knew about Sam's condition, the only thing that Dean had said when he called the school to excuse Sam was that he had been in a car accident and was currently in the hospital recovering. That had been told to the teachers, and he was sure that it had spread around the school by now. But no one knew about the cancer. Sam couldn't even tell anyone, his phone had been destroyed in the crash and he didn't have any access to a computer.

All together, Sam seemed to be taking it pretty well. He was calm, listened intently to what the doctors had to say, and did his best not to complain.

But of course it didn't last. Early on Tuesday morning, Sam got angry.

The doctor had come in to explain more about the cancer and the treatment and possibilities for Sam, and Dean was sitting next to him, munching on a little granola bar that he had gotten from the cafeteria. Sam was looking over a pamphlet the doctor had given him, and Dean was watching. He saw it change in his little brother's eyes, saw something break, and then fire overtake his expression.

His hand crumpled up the pamphlet and then it hit the wall, accompanied by Sam shouting, "This is stupid!"

"Sam-" the doctor warned, but Sam interrupted him.

"No! This is stupid! There is no way I have cancer. I don't! So what if I've had aches in my chest, everybody does, it's called growing pains! I'm only fifteen, your stupid test is wrong! Guys can't even _get_ breast cancer, I don't have boobs!"

"Technically, Sam, you can. You have breasts, everyone does, and it's called Carcinoma." The doctor said quietly. "Please lower your voice, people are sick-"

"_Fuck_ you and your Carcinoma! I'm fine! I'm leaving! Dean, let's _go_," he growled, spinning his legs out of the bed and pushing himself to his feet. But his eyes went wide and his knees went out, his body going limp and crumpling towards the floor. Dean leapt up and caught him under the arms, lifting him back up so he could sit on the bed. Sam's hands clutched at his own chest, tears streaking down his cheeks. "I'm only fifteen," he repeated, his voice cracking on the second word. Dean could see the boy's fingers digging into his chest, like he was planning on clawing the cancer out himself, so he sat in front of Sam, pulling his little brother's hands away from his chest and wrapped them around his own hands instead.

"Squeeze my hands instead," he told him, and Sam did as Dean asked. His fingernails bit into his older brother's skin, but the boy didn't complain. The doctor left the room, knowing when to give his patients space.

"I don't want to have cancer, Dean," Sam told him, his eyes shining with tears.

"I know," Dean responded, gentle in the way he had only ever been with his little brother.

They stayed like that until Sam had calmed down a little bit, but the doctor didn't come back, so Dean sat back next to the bed and continued to talk with Sam.

"Can you... Do me a favor?" Sam asked, picking at his fingernails.

"Yeah, sure," Dean said, swatting at his hands until he stopped. "If you stop doing that."

Sam smiled briefly, a small source of light, but then it was gone. "I... I would like to see Jess. And Gabriel. But, separately. I don't... I don't want the fact that I have cancer to spread, so I don't want to tell Gabe. But I do want to tell Jess."

Dean nodded. He had seen this coming, knew that sooner or later Sam was going to want to see his friends. "Do you know Jess's number?"

Sam shook his head. "It was in my phone, but..."

Dean sighed. "How should I tell her, then?"

"You could... Go to school, I guess. You need to go home anyways. You've been in the same clothes for four days. Go take a shower."

Dean's nose wrinkled of its own accord. He didn't want to go to school. Sam chuckled a little bit, glancing at the clock. "It's only five. You could still make it."

Dean shrugged. "Maybe. I'd have to walk."

Sam's face fell. "Right. Dad... Dad wrecked the Impala. It's... They said they were taking it to the wreck yard."

"I gotta pick it up before they smash it," Dean mumbled. He could do that after school, if he made it to school.

That's how he ended up outside the hospital, his phone dialing Gabriel and his foot tapping uncomfortably on the ground. There was a boy pushing an old man around in a wheelchair, the old man hairless and wrinkled and shaking. The boy couldn't have been older than Dean, with ginger hair and clear grey eyes that were cast downwards. He spoke to the old man quietly, talking about his day and a woman named Pauline.

"Hello?" Gabriel answered, and Dean sighed a little bit. Good thing he was awake.

"Hey, Gabriel." Dean said, and he could hear Gabriel's intake of breath.

"Dean! Hey, how are you? How's Sammy? Are you at the hospital?"

"I'm alright. Sammy is doing alright. I was wondering if you could give me a ride to school. I need to go and the Impala is wrecked."

There was a pause, and Gabriel said, "Yeah, yeah. I can give you a ride. Are you at the hospital? Do you need your stuff?"

"Um... Yeah. I kinda need to run home for like fifteen minutes."

"To grab your stuff?"

"I also gotta shower and change," Dean mumbled, and he could hear shuffling. Gabriel might have been nodding.

"Okay. I'll be at the hospital in about a half hour."

Dean sighed. He didn't want to leave Sam, but he tried to remind himself he was doing this for Sam. "Okay." He answered, and then he hung up. He only had a half an hour left to talk to Sam, but he didn't head back up right away. Instead he hovered around the bench he had been sitting on, watching the sky and listening to the boy talk to the old man.

It was peaceful.

.

...

.

When Dean got in the car the second time after Gabriel dropped him off from the hospital, there were two other people in the car that hadn't been there before. There was a kid in the backseat, Samandriel, and someone in the front seat, Jimmy! Dean smiled a little bit and flicked the back of his beanie-d head.

"Morning, Jimmy. Samandriel."

"Oh," Samandriel jumped, "at school I go by Alfie."

Dean glanced at him. "Why?"

"To avoid the attention. No one has a name like Samandriel."

"Hm," Dean answered, nodding, and Jimmy turned halfway to smile at him.

"Hello, Dean."

"Hey, Jimmy," Dean said, and no one offered any more conversation, so it was quiet. Dean didn't really want to be alone with his thoughts, but he also didn't want to try to come up with something to say into the quiet car.

Dean climbed out of the car first, heading towards the school with his bag slung across one shoulder. His legs were heavy, almost as heavy as his eyelids, and the sound of his boots hitting the cement made a little wince fly through him every time. He felt overly sensitive and exhausted, almost like he was hungover. He didn't want to listen to people ask him if he was okay, or hear people whisper as he passed in the halls. He didn't want to see people give him pity stares. He just didn't want to be here. He vowed to ditch as soon as both Jess and Gabriel knew when to come see Sam.

He sat down in Chem, and Gabriel sat down almost instantly, which meant the boy had been behind him the whole time. He could practically see the struggle in Gabriel's mind, knowing the boy wanted to make some sarcastic comment, but also knowing that there was some part deep inside him who wanted to be there for his friend. He could see it in the boy's eyes.

"Sam wants to see you," Dean blurted, unable to broach the subject carefully. "Today. After school." _And Jess can come later, after dinner, _Dean thought. That way they won't run into each other, and Sam won't be worried about telling Jess but not telling Gabriel.

Gabriel's eyes flick to Dean, full of some emotion that Dean couldn't pinpoint. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, you're one of the two people that he asked to see," Dean added, scribbling his name on the paper that the teacher had handed to him. He started to fill it out, not looking at Gabriel. The boy didn't respond, either.

It was quiet for a minute, and then Dean just barely heard, "How are you doing?"

His eyes moved to Gabriel of their own accord, because he wasn't expecting the boy to actually get the words out, but Gabriel wasn't looking at him. "You know," The boy continued, his eyes squinting at his paper. "With your brother and your dad and all of that stuff. I'm surprised you even made it to school."

Dean resisted the urge to laugh, because Gabriel was trying to be there for him, and he appreciated it. But who would even be okay in his situation? And of course, Gabriel didn't know the half of it. He hadn't seen Sam's scratched up face or the gash under the bandage on his face while the nurses were changing the wrapping. He didn't know about the cancer. He didn't know that Sammy might die. He didn't know. He didn't-he didn't-

"Dean, are you having like an attack or something?" Gabriel said quietly, and Dean realized that he was shaking. Without a word he stood up and excused himself to the bathroom, and the teacher let him go. She had probably been informed. They all had been informed. Everyone knew about his life. Everyone was expecting him to fall apart. He was a time bomb, and everyone was tiptoeing around him, waiting for him to explode.

He shouted in frustration and spun around to smash a fist into the wall, wincing as his knuckles split open against the brick and he started to bleed. He cradled his hand to his chest and headed for the bathroom, where he ran water over his hand and grit his teeth through the stinging. It was distracting, though. He allowed the sting in his knuckles to overtake his mind, pushing away thoughts of his dad and his brother and his shitty life and how he couldn't catch a break. There was no escape from this. This was his life, and before the crash he had been neck deep, but now he was drowning and there was nothing to grab onto.

He stepped out of the bathroom and instantly tripped on something, going down hard on his hands and knees, scraping up his palms and ripping his jeans a little.

"Oh, my god!" A voice said. "Oh my god, are you okay? I'm so sorry, I didn't mean- Dean?"

Dean looked up, sighing in relief. "Jess," He breathed, taking her hand as she helped him up. This was good. He could leave. She was holding a camera, the old kind that spit the pictures out right away, and there was another girl hesitating a couple feet away, leaning against the brick wall. Jess must be in photography.

"Oh my god, you're bleeding," Jess gasped, flipping his hand over and looking at his cut knuckles.

"It's fine," Dean mumbled, pulling his hand away and shoving it into his jacket pocket, ignoring the stab of pain. "I actually needed to talk to you," He managed, and she looked confused. She had to have heard. Everyone seemed to know. She tilted her head to the side, waiting for him to go on. He sent a glance at the other girl before continuing. "Do you… do you know about Sam?"

Her eyes widened a fraction of an inch. "What happened to Sam?"

_Shit. _He swallowed the lump in his throat and choked out, "He was in a crash. He's alive, though." He added quickly when her hands snapped up to cover her mouth. "He just… wanted to see you. He asked me to ask you to come see him."

"Where?" She asked through her fingers. "When?"

"Oh, um, the hospital. Maybe about six-ish? He has to… eat, and stuff."

She nodded. "Yeah, I'll be there. Is that why he hasn't been answering my texts?"

Dean nodded, his eyes on the ground. "His phone was destroyed in the… crash. I was sure it would be all over the school by now, I'm, uh, surprised you didn't know."

She managed a fleeting smile. "I do my best to avoid gossip."

"Right," Dean choked, swallowing over and over, clenching his fists and wincing when his knuckles protested.

"Maybe you should go home," She suggested. "You don't look to good. But only if you let me tape up your hand."

Dean reluctantly sat down on the bricks, watching as Jess dug through her pack, which was what Dean had tripped on, and then she unsheathed a roll of gauze and a thing of Neosporin.

"Why do you have this stuff?" Dean asked as she took his hand and smeared the Neosporin on his knuckles with a practiced, confident thumb.

"I help out the school nurse," She informed him, blowing the stay hair out of her face. "I'm going to go into nursing. Just made sense to have a bunch of supplies in my pack. Sometimes I hang out at football games or practices, offer advice and care if they need it. I'm known pretty well as the Freshman Nurse," She grinned. Dean was glad suddenly that she liked to talk; it was distracting. Because it was hard to think about anything except how this girl was involved with Sam, and Sam was currently sitting in a hospital bed, worrying about fucking _cancer _at the age of fifteen, and how it wasn't fair at all.

"Anyways," She said, taping it off and running her fingers across the edges to make sure it wouldn't catch. "Good. You going to go home?"

Dean shrugged, gritting his teeth before answering, "I'll probably go to the hospital. You know…"

Jess dropped her eyes, her lower lip catching between her teeth. "Right."

Dean nodded, and pushed himself off the bricks. "I'm, uh, gonna go, then. I'll see you… tonight," he finished awkwardly, and then he hurried off to avoid the rest of the awkward conversation.

He stopped at the door to exit the hall, realizing too late that he didn't have his bag. Did he really need it? He debated going back, his feet shuffling back and forth underneath him. Was it worth going back? Because then there was the whole trying to figure out how to leave again. He didn't want everyone to stare at him. He didn't want everyone to know. So he pulled his jacket tighter around his neck and gave up, knowing someone would have it later. He could always just ask the teacher.

He walked to the hospital, which wasn't too far, not as far as from home to the hospital, or even the school to the garage. But since whoever had put together Sioux Falls seemed to have the need to have every single thing spread out, it was still about two miles. Dean planned to use the time to think, to sort out the tangle of thorns in his mind, but he got caught up thinking about the people passing him by and how much he missed hearing Cas's voice blasting in the speakers of the Impala. He wanted to hear them sing again. He would be lying if he told anyone he didn't take his earbuds and phone out, turning on Novak and tucking his phone back into his pocket.

_Are we gong up or just going down?_

_It's just a matter of time until we're all found out_

_Take our tears and put them on ice_

_Cause I swear I'd burn this city down to show you the light_

_Because it's falling apart and we can't find our way_

_This total midnight, fist fight, black out_

_This total black out, black out, black out_

_And your backless black dress soaked to the skin_

_When it's said and done and they're all scrambling_

_To blackness, pitch black, black out_

Dean lost himself in the music, admitting only to himself that he knew every word. He knew all of their songs, really. He knew the order of all the songs, knew all of the names, and could identify them by the first chord of each song. For example, this was _Black Out_, which was the eleventh song on the album. He wasn't sure that he would ever willingly admit that to anyone.

_Are we going up, or are we going down?_

_Because baby I'm sick of this sideways shit _

Cas sang to him, the first words of the next song, easily one of Dean's favorites on the album. It took him the longest to memorize, because it was mostly words, Cas rambling on about someone who couldn't make up their mind, and how it was so hard to love them. At first, Dean had thought it was about a girl, but now he wasn't as sure. It was called _If You Knew the Kinds of Things We Say About You _which was a mouthful, and easily 'Fall Out Boy' or 'Panic! At the Disco' worthy. But every once in a while Dean would turn it on when he was trying to sleep or relax, and it would help. That, and the last song on the album, called _Core_. It didn't have any instruments, just the four of them singing and harmonizing and splitting into parts and _god, _it was beautiful.

Suddenly Dean was at the hospital, and he reluctantly pulled out his earbuds and signed in, heading up towards Dad's room, to get the visit out of the way before he headed to Sam's room.

He opened the door and sat down next to the bed, leaning his arms on the edge of the bed and putting his face in his arms. "Hey, Dad." He mumbled into his arms. "Just checking in. I tried going to school today, but didn't even make it through a full period. Fucked up my hand pretty bad, too, I punched a wall. Jess fixed it up for me, oh. You don't know Jess. Jess is Sam's new love interest… She's nice. She's really pretty. I'm proud of him for this one. Better than that bitch Ruby that he knew in middle school. You hated her too, I remember. You would like Jess, I think. She kind of reminds me of Mom. Come to think of it, maybe you wouldn't like her, because she would just continue to remind you of Mom… I don't know. It's not like you'll meet her. Because when you get out of here you'll probably just end up leaving again. I hate how I expect that of you now. I don't want to expect that of you. I want to know you'll be there and not drunk when I get home. I want to know you'll be there for me. I want you to notice my new jacket or my new boots. I want you to come home for Christmas. I want you to bring us presents and sit down with us so you can watch us open them. I'm hardly an adult; really, I'm still a kid. Eighteen is still a kid. I shouldn't be living alone, watching Sammy all by myself. I shouldn't have to do this. You should be there. But you're not. So… I guess I just have to deal, right? Just _take care of Sammy. _Sometimes I wonder if you dumped that job on me because you didn't want to have to do it. Because you sure as hell don't. You're never there for him. I'm the one who makes him dinner. I'm the one who makes him soup when he's sick. I'm the one who drives him to school. I'm the one who helps him with his homework. I'm the one who buys him presents for Christmas. I'm the one who tucks him in at night. I'm the one who buys his clothes, who takes him to the doctor, who buys the toothpaste. It's all me. All of it. Me. Not you. Me and Sam, we're family. You might be our dad, but you're not family. Not anymore." Dean pushed himself to his feet, scrubbing at his eyes. He had expected himself to start crying at the pile of shambles his life had come to, but he didn't. He just squared his jaw and stared at the man in the bed. "I'm sorry. Only because at one point, maybe you were my father. But there comes a point when I don't have to continue loving you because you're my dad, and I get to choose to love you or not based on what kind of person you are. And I don't like the person you've become. So, fix your shit, or I won't do anything."

And with that, he turned on his heel, and left the room. He was done. He was done trying. He was going to focus on Sam, because Sam mattered. At least until Dad got better. Physically and mentally.

He tramped through the hospital, taking the stairs instead of the elevator, and keeping his eyes on his feet through the cancer wing.

Sam looked up when Dean came in. He looked a little sad, but he didn't look surprised. "Couldn't do it?"

"Couldn't stay," Dean explained. "Gabriel is coming after school, though. Jess after dinner."

Sam's eyes lit up, and Dean couldn't help but smile a little bit. "That's great-thank you, Dean." He managed. Dean shrugged and sat down, pulling his knees up and jamming them into the chair as well. Sam's smile died a little bit, and he hesitated.

"What?" Dean asked. He got the feeling, from Sam's expression, that he might not like the question very much.

Sam's eyes met his before dropping again. "Do you think… you could take me to see Dad?"

Dean sighed a little bit, but it wasn't as bad as he thought it was going to be. "Yeah, let me go find a doctor make sure that's okay first, though."

As soon as Dean had permission and instructions, he helped Sam out of bed, unhooking the IV and hanging it on one of the rolling poles that was on the edge of the room. Sam put his weight on his feet, but then he gasped, one of his hands clutching at his chest. "Ow. God. Ow."

Dean gritted his teeth and let Sam lean on him, helping him down the hallway best he could. "Was it this bad before?" Dean asked. He felt bad for not noticing.

"No, not this bad." Sam explained. "It wasn't great, worse right when I got up in the morning, but it would get better as I moved around. I thought it was growing pains, I get those in my legs a lot."

Dean had a sudden pang of worry that somehow he had cancer in his legs as well, but he pushed the thought from his mind. The doctors knew what they were doing. He didn't need to worry about anything.

He got Sam to the elevator, and then to Dad's floor, and then down the long hall to Dad's room. It must have taken them fifteen minutes, because Sam moved like a slug, out of breath and leaning heavily on Dean. When they finally got to Dad's room Sam collapsed into the chair next to Dad's bed, and tried to catch his breath.

"Wow," Sam managed through a deep breath. "He looks… weird."

"Yeah," Dean stared at the man, his hands in his pockets. "All pale and skinny."

They silently stared at him for a little while, listening to the slow beeping of his heart machine. Dean felt pretty ill.

He was about to suggest they go back, or walk to the gardens instead, but Sam leaned forward, pushing a finger into Dad's arm. "Dad." He said, looking almost mad. "Dad. Get up."

The man didn't move, and Dean almost said something, but Sam didn't look like he would appreciate it if he did. "Dad," Sam snapped. "I have cancer. I'm sitting here, and I have cancer, and you got us in a car crash, and now you're just lying there. Move. Get up. Wake up. Right now."

There was a pause, and for a moment, Dean expected John's eyes to open, but they didn't. Sam was growing increasingly more frustrated, and Dean wanted to cry. He hated seeing Sam like this, seeing the man who used to be his father like this.

"Wake up, Dad, please," Sam sobbed. Dean felt a tear drip down his face and he dropped his head to his chest. "Please. I need to say I'm sorry. And also that I'm mad at you. But… I've been thinking a lot… If it wasn't for the crash, we wouldn't have known. We wouldn't have found the cancer. I… I don't know what to do, Dad. I want to be mad but there's no one to be mad at. I don't know what I'm doing. So just… Dad?"

Dean shook his head a little bit. Whatever Sam had seen, a twitch of his hand, maybe his chest, wasn't real. He wasn't waking up. Nothing was going to happen.

"…Cancer?" A voice rasped from the bed, and Dean's head snapped up, and it couldn't be true, but it was. Dad's eyes were open, only a slit, but they were open. His mouth worked slowly.

"Dad," Sam gasped, and Dean didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything. A swell of hope was starting to build in his chest, and he desperately tried to tamp it down. He couldn't let himself get his hopes up. Once Dad was better, he was going to leave.

"I'm…" John started, and then after a deep breath, he managed, "Sorry." His eyes flicked between Sam and Dean, so they both knew it was for both of them. Sam nodded, and Dean just stared. For a moment, he managed to convince himself that maybe; just maybe, everything was going to be okay.

But then something went wrong.

.

…

.

Dean paced back and forth in front of the bench that Sam was sitting on, his face buried in his hands. Every once in a while, Sam would let out a sob, but as long as he wasn't full on crying, Dean was going to just let him get it out. Ten feet away, they had closed Dad's door. The nurse had announced time of death to be 10:34 AM. Dean had run to the bathroom and threw up, and Sam just sat down heavily on the bench, and he hadn't moved since.

It took an hour to get Sam to go anywhere, and once they got him to move, it took ten minutes to get him back to his room. A doctor walked them back, and then once they had settled, he had began to talk numbers and 'what this meant.' Dean hardly heard any of it. What he did hear, though, was the number. The hospital bill.

Oh my god. He had forgotten. He hadn't had to worry about it, because it was going to be dumped on Dad when he woke up. How were they going to pay that? Dean was going to be in debt for the rest of his life.

"Dean-" The doctor began, but Dean shook his head.

"Can you leave, so I can talk to my brother?" He asked, and the doctor took a deep breath and left the room.

"How are we going to find the money, Dean?" Sam mumbled, his eyes glassy. He looked like he was going to cry any minute. He might. Come to think of it, Dean might join him.

Dean was already correcting his life, figuring out what would have to be done. He could drop school. He hadn't been going anywhere in life anyways. He was going to drop high school, pick up more hours at the garage, get a second job. They could take out a loan, pay for it that way, but there was no way he'd be able to pay for that, and Sam's college…

"Sam," Dean mumbled, "I think this might mean you're going to have to give up college."

Sam nodded, like he had known, but the tears spilled over anyways. "This isn't fair," He managed through his tears, wiping his face on the sleeve of the long sleeve shirt that had given him for under his hospital gown, because he was cold. It was a purple color, matching the bruise on the bridge of his nose. He was getting skinnier, which was ridiculous, because he had only been here for four or five days. Were they starving him? What was even happening?

Dean didn't know anything, and he was sick of it. Sam grabbing the side of his shirt pulled him from his thoughts, and Dean scooted his chair closer so Sam could lean down into his shoulder. If everything was normal, he might have been against this. But everything wasn't normal. They sat like that for a long time, hours probably, until the doctor came in with Sam's lunch and Sam kicked Dean out to go eat.

Dean wasn't hungry, so he didn't eat. He wished for whiskey as he wandered to where the garden met the parking lot, and he stared out at the people walking by, wondering what they were thinking. He didn't want to be alone, but he also didn't want to ask anyone to be with him.

He sat on a little bench for at least a half hour before his phone rang. He dug it from his pocket. _Incoming call from Blue Eyes White Dragon. _

"Hello?"

"Dean?" Cas said, sounding happy. "Thanks for picking up. How are you doing?"

Dean's throat closed up, and he tried to speak, but he couldn't get any words out. Cas listened to his silence.

"Do you need someone to be there?" Cas asked, and Dean tried to get out a _yeah, _but all he managed was a squeak. "I'll be there in five minutes, okay?"

Dean managed a sound of agreement, and then Cas was hanging up, and in seven minutes, the singer was sitting on the bench next to him and gathering Dean into his arms, scooping the mess of a person he had become into a real shape again. Dean melted against Cas's chest and buried his face in his shoulder, smelling his familiar smell before beginning to cry into his shirt. Cas pulled his arms tighter around Dean, spinning a little bit so Dean could comfortably rest against him. "It's okay." Cas whispered, rocking them back and forth lightly. "It's going to be okay."

.

…

**Well, there we go. Hope you guys enjoyed it. Sorry again I was a little late! Let me know what you thought of it. **

**Hugs and Kisses, **

**Sami**


	7. Chapter 7

**Heeeey guys. This one was hard to pump out, lots of angst in a short amount of time. I thought, though, maybe to apologize I would put a little something in that you've been waiting for :3 **

**Enjoy! Good luck, hope you still have the tissues. **

.

…

Sam told Gabriel about the crash and about John's passing, but he told Jess everything. Dean sat across the room while Sam poured his heart out to her, and she held his hand and listened with serious eyes. When it was time for her to go, after kissing Sam on the cheek, she gave Dean a hug and a smile, telling him to hang in there and that if he needed her she'd be there. Then she left, and Dean and Sam sat around in silence, wondering what the hell they were going to do. Cas had left with promises that he'd be back the next day to make sure they were doing alright. He had even offered to help pay the hospital bills, but Dean couldn't take charity like that. He felt too bad.

For four days, they simply existed. Dean didn't get a thing done, didn't try to go to school, and hardly ate. He simply sat in Sam's room and agreed with things. He would nod when the doctor came in, but he wouldn't answer any questions. The doctor figured it out pretty quick that he needed to give Dean a reasonably wide berth. Cas came by, with a guitar and dragging Gabriel with his bass, and they played a few songs, trying to cheer the Winchesters up. Being honest, it worked, but only for about an hour. After that Dean plunged into depression again, and Sam got quiet. He could only imagine what was going on in his little brother's mind.

The only person he really spoke to was Sam, and that was only when there was no one else in the room. He spent most of his time in an internal debate about how much he wanted to go home and drink himself into a stupor, but not wanting to leave Sam alone.

Saturday night, Sam sat up in his bed, and turned to Dean. Usually that meant that he wanted his attention, so Dean lifted his head and locked eyes with his brother, raising his eyebrows.

"You need to go home." Sam said, his voice surprisingly strong and willful. He sounded almost like his normal self.

"Sam," Dean started, all of his excuses lined up on his tongue, hiding the one that would never make it out, _I don't want to be alone. _

"No." Sam said forcefully. "No, no. You need to take care of yourself. You need to shower, change your clothes. Sleep in a bed instead of that stupid chair. Your neck has to be so stiff by now. I'll be fine here overnight. If not I can ask one of the nurses for their phone and I'll call. I know your number. It'll be fine," Sam insisted.

Dean's neck was starting to really bother him, but he wasn't going to admit to that. "Sam, I don't _want _to go home. I don't want to be in that house right now."

Sam pursed his lips. "Well, I want you to. For me?"

Dean sighed, and Sam knew that he had got him. Everything he did was for Sam. He pushed himself to his feet, digging his phone out of his pocket. "I'll call Cas to pick me up. I'll be back first thing in the morning, okay?"

"Okay. Don't forget to take a shower," Sam joked, and Dean managed a smile that probably looked more like a grimace. "Sleep good tonight, okay?"

Sam didn't look at him, and Dean figured it was so he didn't have to lie to his face. Neither of them was going to sleep well. "Okay I will, you too."

.

…

.

Cas pulled up in his car, a small smile on his face. "How you doing?" He asked.

Dean shrugged and looked away, plopping into the passenger seat. He could almost hear Cas mentally smacking himself as he started the car. "How come you're headed home?"

"Sam told me I needed to shower," Dean tried to laugh. It sounded more like the clinically ill sibling of a laugh. "And sleep in a real bed."

"Where have you been sleeping?" Cas asked.

"Chair," Dean said gruffly, raising one shoulder. Cas looked at him like he was insane, but he didn't say anything. Dean just stared forward, wishing he were alone so he could wish that he wasn't alone. He wasn't sure what he wanted anymore.

It was silent for a few minutes, and Cas frowned, pulling his bottom lip into his mouth. "Have you eaten?"

Dean shook his head, staring out the front window. He wasn't hungry.

"Do you want to go grab a burger or something?" Cas asked, his eyes darting to Dean before going back to the road. "Distraction?"

Dean resisted the urge to laugh, for Cas's sake. Nothing could distract him from this. From Dad being dead and Sammy dying from cancer in a hospital bed and the fact that he wanted to drown himself in alcohol. He couldn't even talk to Cas about the cancer, not when Sammy didn't want everyone to know about it. "Not really hungry."

Cas narrowed his eyes a little bit. "You have to eat."

"I'll eat at home," Dean lied as they pulled onto his street.

"Liar. Am I going to have to come over and make sure you eat? Or are you going to come with me?" Cas asked, pulling the car to a stop in front of Dean's house and killing the engine.

Dean stared at the tiny, dark building, the curtains drawn and the porch light off. He didn't want to go inside, he didn't want to be alone. But he knew if he went with Cas, he wouldn't be much fun, he wouldn't be able to drown in alcohol or mope around or stew in his juices. He would just bring Cas down.

He wanted to drown, now. He had been submerged for too long, reached the point where his lungs were bursting for air and he just wanted nothing but to let go and drown. He didn't even want to try and tread water anymore. But he had nothing to drown himself in.

Or did he?

Dean's eyes found Cas's blue ones, which were focused worriedly on him, waiting for an answer. Dean could remember the high, the drink feeling when he was with Cas, and wished that it could come back. He was suddenly quite upset that there was the center divide separating them, because he wanted to press himself close to the boy and steal his air. He wanted to have all of the angles of his body pressed up against the boy, wanted to feel his muscular chest pressed up against his own, breathing hard in tandem with Dean's. He wanted; he _lusted. _All at once he realized that he had probably liked both girls and guys this whole time, he just needed the right boy - no, he needed _Cas _to come along and point it out to him.

He debated kissing the boy anyways; after all, they were Friends with Benefits, but the center divide would end up being a problem at some point or another, so he decided against it.

So he just stared, feeling the hard lines of frustration that had been etched into his face melting away and softening. Cas noticed the difference, and a small smiled overtook his expression, partnered with confusion. He was probably confused because he was wondering what had happened, what had changed.

When the staring had moved out of the somewhat normal zone into downright creepy but neither of them seemed like they were going to look away, Dean decided that he was going to take things into his own hands. He reached over and twisted the key in the ignition at the same time that he moved the gearshift to drive, and Cas had to scramble for the brake, so they wouldn't roll down the street.

"Burgers?" Dean suggested, settling himself back down into his seat as Cas shot him a dirty look, spinning the wheel to pull the car back into the middle of the road.

"Yeah, alright, weirdo."

.

…

.

The burger place was full, so they got their meals to go and drove up the hill above town to eat on the hood of Cas's car, looking at the view. It was the kind of thing Dean used to like to do with Sammy, which made him a little sad, so he tried not to focus on it.

They watched the sunset and shared a box of fries, eating in silence, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Dean was glad to have Cas as a friend. When Dean was done with his burger he leaned around into the car so he could jam at buttons until the radio turned on, and he turned the dial so it wasn't very loud. Cas smiled at the song, closing his eyes and leaning back. He had finished his burger first, (he seemed to be quite smitten with the things) and he was sitting comfortably full next to Dean.

But if you sing along with me

_Do you think you could ever smile again? _

_If you sing this melody, _

_Do you think you could laugh again,_

_My friend?_

_Just try for me. _

Cas grinned and opened his mouth, eyes still shut, singing along with the song. Dean didn't recognize it, but it wasn't a mainstream song, and Dean didn't listen to the radio much anyways. It was alright that he didn't know it. He liked that Cas knew all these obscure songs, it made him more mysterious. Dean wanted to know what was going on inside Cas's head. But he knew that he had no chance of ever knowing.

_Sing oh, oooh o-oh, oooh oh oh, oooh oh oh, oh oh, ooh o-oh, oooh oh oh, oooh oh oh, oh,_

_Don't wait for England to chime_

_Not for your heart or mine_

_I know time is never kind._

Dean smiled, swinging an arm inside the car to drop the empty burger bag on the seat. When he turned back, Cas looked like he was closer, but he wasn't moving still, and he looked nonchalant, like nothing had happened. Dean chuckled and scooted so their hips were pressed together, and Cas smiled.

They sat like that, and the music played, and Cas sang quietly. Dean closed his eyes, but suddenly Cas was grabbing his face, and staring straight at him, but he hadn't stopped singing-

"_I know it will be better soon somehow,_" Cas sang with the song, his eyes flicking back and forth between Dean's. "_Just try for me?_"

Dean didn't wait to see if he had more to say, (or rather, sing) he just closed his hands on either side of Cas's face, pushed forwards and crushed his lips to Cas's. The singer's hands slid down Dean's sides and pulled him close, dragging his body on top so they were lounged against the front window. The Winchester's knee slid between Cas's legs, and said boy moaned against Dean's lips. He used the opportunity to lick into his mouth, tasting Cas, and nothing but Cas. The boy slid his index fingers into Dean's belt loops and dragged him down so they were pressed flat against each other, rising and falling together, breathing together, just feeling. Dean moved to kiss and mouth at Cas's neck, and the singer tilted his head to the side to give Dean better access, his lip tucking between his teeth and a whimper escaping him. Dean grinned and nipped and licked at the skin, leaving small red marks and little red splotches that had potential to be hickeys later. He felt… well, he felt. He hadn't felt anything since Dad died, but here he felt whole and warm and out of breath. Cas's hands rucked his shirt up to run his guitar-worn fingers across skin, and Dean paused to push the strap of Cas's tank out of the way and suck a hickey into his collarbone. When there was a significant red spot just under where his strap would be, Dean pulled away to admire the tattoos that Cas had. He traced his fingers over the noose, following it up the rope to the anchor, where it wrapped once around the loop and ended. Dean then followed the path he had taken with his finger again, only this time with his tongue and lips, exploring all the way down to the noose again. Then he mouthed over the cross, the small axe that was usually covered by his shirt, and a rose the Dean found behind his ear. There was a music staff below one of his collarbones, and as Dean followed it it broke apart and fell away from itself, spiraling down into drips and a waterfall of notes and lines that fell below Cas's shirt. Dean wanted to get him out of the shirt, but he realized that it was probably not the best idea to get half naked in public.

Cas solved the problem and pulled Dean's face back up, kissing him once, twice, a third time, before shifting to the side so they were next to each other and pulling him into a cuddle-hug. Neither of them moved, simply clutching each other, eyes closed, breathing. Cas smelled like he had before, only without the alcohol tainting it. He smelled like honey and poppies and maybe a little cherry. Dean had a fleeting thought that he could smell this smell for a long time.

_Everyone I know has got a reason_

_To say_

_Put the past away_

_I wish you would step back from that ledge, my friend_

_You could cut ties with all the lies that you've been living in_

_And_

_If you do not want to see me again_

_I would understand_

_I would understand_

By the time they moved, too many songs to count had passed on the radio, the sun had gone down, and Cas was starting to shiver a little bit. Dean tried to pull him closer to share his body heat, but they couldn't get any closer.

So he sighed and pulled away, sitting up and dragging Cas with him. Cas grinned and kissed Dean lightly, slow and soft, one hand resting on the side on his neck and the other on his thigh. Dean slid both hands into Cas's already messy hair and allowed himself to muss it up further. It was entirely too couple-y, too caring and not enough just like they were friends that sometimes made out, but it was nice. It was distracting. Dean couldn't think about anything except the slow slide of Cas's lips, the tip of his tongue just barely there against his lower lip. The taste, the feel, the smell of Cas. Cas was everywhere, and it was okay. This was okay.

But then Cas pulled away, and slid himself off the hood of the car and dragged Dean with him, parting to walk around to his side of the car. "You should get some sleep, Dean," Cas said as he buckled himself in and changed the radio station. Dean buckled himself as well, and Cas grinned. "You ready to go?"

Dean nodded, suddenly quiet again. He didn't want to go home, didn't want to be alone.

Cas picked it up before they had even left the parking lot, but he didn't say anything. Dean could tell by the way that he bit his lip and took a deep breath, letting it out through his nose, and how his fingers tightened on the steering wheel.

The ride was quiet, and Dean was sort of afraid of saying anything. He didn't know what to say anyways, so it was alright.

Cas pulled the car to a stop in front of Dean's house, but he didn't say anything. Dean stared at the house again, anxiety settling into a ball in the pit of his stomach and stretching arms into his chest, threatening to bring his burger back up. He didn't want to go inside. He didn't want to be alone.

But he didn't wan tot say that, didn't want to admit his weakness to Cas. He could only wonder what the boy thought of him already, with his mixed signals and his complete inability to hold himself together.

When Cas's voice came, it was quiet, but it filled the car. "Do you want to spend the night at my house? You know, so you wont be alone."

Dean spun his head around to look at the singer, eyes grateful. "If it's not a problem," He mumbled, and Cas shook his head and smiled.

He dropped the car into drive and started off, saying, "Just gotta ask Naomi, though."

Dean nodded, and he spared a glance at Cas. The boy looked less like he was upset, and more like it was going to be okay. They drove again in silence, but this time it was okay. It was nice. It was calm.

Cas led Dean up the walkway into the house, where he left Dean to hang his jacket up on the hat rack, heading into the house to find his mom.

"Naomi?" Cas called, and there was a short pause. The house wasn't quiet, there were voices and music somewhere, and the sound of feet moving around on the second floor, but it was a big enough house that you could still hear the things happening in the house.

"Yes?" A voice came from the dining room, and Cas stopped in the doorway from the living room to the dining room. Dean hesitated behind him.

"Can Dean spend the night tonight?"

Naomi looked up and her eyes found Dean, assessing him. She had brown hair that was tied up in a bun, and grayish eyes that matched her jacket, which was buttoned once over a white dress shirt. She was sitting at the table, papers spread neatly out in front of her. She looked like she might have been a nice lady, except for the expression on her face. She assessed Dean with cold judgment, her eyebrows set and her mouth in a tight line. She looked like she could stand to have someone take a stick out of her ass.

"No." She said, and then she looked back down at her papers.

Dean balked, where had that even come from? and Cas sighed, like he had expected it.

"Naomi, he's been going through a rough time, and I think it would be better if he had somewhere to spend the night, maybe so he isn't alone or anything?" Cas pressed, pulling Dean forwards a step or two.

Naomi's head came up again, and she looked irritated. She fixed her eyes on Dean and folded her hands. Dean thought she might politely tell him to get the fuck out of her house, but she didn't. Instead, she said, "Dean, can you tell me what you've been going through?"

Cas looked vaguely panicked, and he said, "I don't think he-"

"Castiel," She snapped, her eyes flicking to him for a moment, "I asked Dean."

Dean swallowed hard, glancing at Cas to see his apologetic expression before saying, "My, uh, my dad passed away a few days ago. And my brother is, um, he's in the hospital."

Naomi nodded a little bit, staring at him. Dean could picture the little buffering image above her head while she sifted through it, and then she asked, "What's wrong with your brother?"

Dean swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to get around the question. "A lot of things. I'd rather not talk about it."

Naomi nodded, more surely this time. "You can spend the night, but you have to sleep on the couch," She allowed, and Cas made an indignant noise.

"Why can't he sleep upstairs with us?" Cas asked, and Naomi turned her eyes on him, twin gray flames.

"Because I said so, Castiel. Leave me to my work, now." She said with a tone of finality, and then she dropped her eyes to the papers again.

Cas took a deep breath, looking like he was steeling himself, and then jerked his head to tell Dean to follow him before heading back into the living room, where he collapsed, humming a song that Dean was pretty sure he had heard recently.

"_Oh Anna Sun,_" Cas sang, patting the cushion next to him and kicking his feet up on the coffee table. "_Oh Anna Sun_,"

Dean sat down, and Cas sang a bit louder, leaning down to untie his shoes. "_What do you know? This house is falling apart,_

_What can I say? This house is falling apart,"_

"Please stop with the passive aggressive song lyrics, Castiel," Naomi called, sounding equally bored and annoyed. Dean glanced at Cas, who was trying not to laugh.

"Never," He whispered, just loud enough for Dean to hear, and then he continued to sing, grabbing Dean's arm and dragging him away, past Naomi and up the stairs.

"We got no money but we got ha-heart, we're gonna rattle this ghost town."

Cas pulled the Winchester into his room, and jumped up on his bed, yanking Dean with him and bouncing around like they were dancing. It was awkward and funny, both of which were words that Dean would have used to describe Cas.

"_Screen falling off the door_

_Door hanging off the hinges,_

_My feet are still sore_

_My back's on the fringes_

_We were up against the wall_

_On the west Mezzanine_

_We rattle this town_

_We rattle this scene."_

Dean didn't notice that Gabriel and Anna were in the room before they started singing, but suddenly they were and there was suddenly a lot of noise in the small room. Dean spared a glance at the room and he could see Samandriel and Rachel also in the room, lounging on Samandriel's bed and watching with big amused smiles.

"_Oh, Anna Sun!_" The three sang together, and Cas spun Dean around until he lost his footing and collapsed onto the bed, leaving Dean the only one standing. "_Oh, Anna Suuun!"_

"Sing it!" Someone shouted from the hall, and then Lucifer burst into the room, a burly looking guy-Uriel- on his tail. Uriel jumped onto Samandriel's bed, and Lucifer dragged Anna to her feet, Gabriel following.

"_What do you know? This house is falling apart,_

_What can I say? This house is falling apart,_

_Got no money but we got ha-heart,_

_We're gonna rattle this ghost town._

_What do you know? This house is falling apart,_

_What can I say? This house is falling apart,_

_Got no money but we got ha-heart,_

_We're gonna rattle this ghost town._"

Gabriel held a hand up like he was going to ask a question, but then brought it down slowly, signaling lower volume, Dean guessed. Cas jumped up and began to sing alone while the other three simply hummed to give him a background sound.

"_Live my life without_

_Station wagon rides_

_Fumbling around the back_

_Not one seatbelt on_

_Wait for summertime_

_Coming up for air_

_Now it's all awash_

_Now it's all awash._"

The three began to chant the lyrics from the beginning of the song, Screen falling off the door, door hanging off the hinges, my feet are still sore, my back's on the fringes, we tore up the walls we slept on couches, we lifted this house, we lifted this house. Firecrackers in the east, my car parked south, your hands on my cheeks your shoulder in my mouth, I was up against the wall on the west mezzanine, we rattled this town we rattled this scene.

Cas sang the main line, loud and clear above the other voices, grabbing Dean around the neck and spinning him around, looking like he was having a great time.

"_Live my life without_

_Coming up for air,_

_Now it's all awash_

_I want everyone_

_Racing down the hill_

_I am faster than you_

_Wait for summertime,_

_Wait for summertime_."

Everyone for one last chorus sang together, loud and pristine. It was beautiful. Dean didn't think that he would ever again have a chance in his life to hear something as amazing as this. The sound was just loud enough to block everything out, but not loud enough that his ears rang. A shiver ran down his spine, and his found his toes curling and a smile stretching across his face.

"O_h, Anna Sun,_

_Oh Anna Sun,_

_Sun!_

_What do you know? This house is falling apart_

_What can I say? This house is falling apart_

_Got no money but we got ha-heart,_

_We're gonna rattle this ghost town."_

Then, everyone went everywhere, singing different parts and harmonies and jumping around on Gabriel's bed and Cas's bed and Gabriel dived into Samandriel's bed, scattering the bystanders around the room as well. They were laughing, but it only made it sound better.

"_What do you know? This house is falling apart_

_What can I say? This house is falling apart_

_We go no money but we got ha-heart_

_We're gonna rattle this ghost town_

_This house is falling apart_

_This house is falling apart_

_This house is falling apart_

_We're gonna rattle this ghost town_

_This house is falling apart_

_This house is falling apart._"

There was a moment of silence before there was a tremendous applause, from everyone around the room, and even the guy standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with just a touch of a smile twitching on his face. Michael, Dean remembered. He had only seen him on Christmas Eve, but he remembered.

Everyone broke off into little groups, collapsing on the bed or scampering away out the door or meandering away from where they had set themselves up for the song. Cas grinned at Dean, and said, "Do you need to take a shower?"

Dean nodded, still feeling a bit lifted from the song, and they headed towards the door. Before they could get out, Michael stopped them with a hand on Dean's shoulder.

"Hello. You're Dean, right?" He said, his voice low and gravelly. Dean nodded, and shook the hand that Michael extended. "Welcome to our home. Watch your step, especially with our mom," He warned, and then he turned and walked down the hallway alone.

"That was weird," Dean mumbled to Cas, who nodded a little, shrugging.

"Yeah. He's a little weird. He was trying to be nice, though. He was legitimately warning you, though. Be careful around Naomi. She will stand for us because we're here kids, but other people won't stand a chance."

Dean nodded. He would keep that in mind.

.

…

.

When Naomi went to bed at eleven and told everyone it was time to go to sleep, Cas handed Dean the remote so he could listen to music if he wanted, smiled a little sadly, and headed up for bed. Dean snuggled himself down under the comforter that Cas had given him, trying to get comfortable. He felt exposed and uncomfortable, mostly because he couldn't see most of the room due to the back of the couch. So he smashed his back up against the cushions and stared at the half of the darkened room that he could see.

This was almost worse than being at home.

He gave in and grabbed the remote, clicking through the music that they had until he found Core. He turned it on and closed his eyes, trying to relax himself. The shower had helped a bit, and the couch was really soft and plushy, but Dean was just as alone as he would have been at home, and here he didn't have any alcohol or his bed. Here, he had practically nothing.

He tried to pretend he was at home, but it was no use. There were too many sounds, too much emptiness in the room. Dean gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to picture Sam lying alone in a hospital bed, staring at the blank ceiling, not even comforted by the fact that Dad was in the same hospital. And oh, there's Dad, resurfacing in Dean's mind. He couldn't help but feeling angry that he had to go and die on them. But then suddenly he felt nothing but guilt about his father's death, how he could have kept the keys and refused him access to a car and he would still be alive and no one would be in the hospital. His mind transitioned to the hospital bill, and he bit down on his tongue. Even dropping out of school and getting another job wouldn't be enough, but it would have to do. How do you even drop out of school? Dean wondered. Just… not show up anymore? Do you have to tell them your won't be returning? Do you have to submit a formal apology? Dean bit down on his lip in frustration, almost hard enough to break skin. He wasn't particularly broken up about dropping out, he hadn't expected to go anywhere in life anyways; that was Sammy's job. But he didn't really want to, either. He would miss Gabriel in his Chem class, he would miss talking to Sam at lunch, and he would miss Jimmy. He didn't want to miss things, but he didn't have a choice anymore. He had to give up things because he dad was too much of an idiot to not drive drunk, and apparently didn't even have life insurance.

He tasted blood in his mouth, and instantly released his lip, sucking a breath in and hissing in pain. He hadn't meant to break the skin, but he got distracted. A tear streaked down his face. What was he going to do if Sammy died? He would have nothing to live for anymore. Cas was there and his friend, but Dean had had Sam his whole life, and if Sam wasn't around anymore, he couldn't really think of a reason to live. Another tear joined the first one, and then another and another. He turned his face into his pillow and cried, actually cried, with the huge, racking sobs and uncontrollable shaking. He tried to wipe his face but only succeeded in making a bigger mess. This was gross. This was unnecessary and gross, and he couldn't get himself to stop. Even the recognition that he couldn't control himself made him hate himself more. He couldn't stop blaming everything on himself, couldn't stop hating himself for everything. Maybe if Dad had been able to respect him more he wouldn't have taken the keys and gotten himself killed, maybe if he had been more respectable Naomi would have let him sleep in Cas's room and then he wouldn't be alone and crying his eyes out, maybe if he had been stronger Sam wouldn't have asked him to leave for the night, maybe if he had gotten to the doctors earlier Dad wouldn't have died, maybe maybe maybe-

"Dean?" Cas's whispered voice came from the darkness somewhere above him. There was a smile in his voice as he said, "I snuck out of my room; Naomi didn't hear me. I thought I could stay down here until morning comes and she-" Cas cut off, and Dean figured he probably saw his face. "Dean?"

Dean couldn't respond, he just let out another sob, and then suddenly Cas was there, dragging him upright and pulling him close to his chest.

But this was embarrassing. He shouldn't need someone to hold him, shouldn't need someone to put him back together. He should be able to do it himself. He tried to push away, but Cas held on tight. "I know it hurts. I know it does. It's okay. It's okay that it hurts," He whispered, running a hand through Dean's hair.

"You don't even know," Dean tried to spit, but it came out like a four year old in the middle of a tantrum. He sounded pathetic.

"What don't I know?" Cas said, grabbing the tissue box off of the side table and handing Dean a handful of tissues. Dean cleaned his face off, throwing the tissues at the coffee table when he was done with them. He would clean them up in the morning.

"What's going on. You don't know. It's not. It's not what you think." He should probably stop talking, but he couldn't get himself to.

"What isn't? It's not just your dad?"

"Sammy has fucking cancer," Dean tried to snap, but it came out miserable instead. He stared at his feet on the carpet, wiping his face again and throwing the tissue at the others. "He might die, and then I have nothing left."

It was silent for a moment while Cas processed this, and Dean began to regret it. "Cancer?"

"Carcinoma," Dean sniffed.

"Breast cancer," Cas clarified, and Dean nodded. He felt the singer's fingers slide into the spaces between his own, and he didn't have the strength to push him away. "Dean… I didn't know."

"Yeah, you're not supposed to." Dean would have denied it left and right, but he might have pouted a little bit. "Sammy didn't want everyone to know."

Cas grimaced a little bit, realizing why Dean was beating himself up. But then he put something else together, and he said, "Wait, Dean, how are you paying for all of this?"

Dean stared at the floor. He didn't want to tell him. This sucked. He wanted to get up and run out the door, walk home and get probably no sleep there, but at least he wouldn't have to deal with this conversation. He pulled his hand away from Cas's, folding his arms across his chest. Cas frowned. "Dean? What are you doing?"

"I'm going to get another job," Dean announced without looking at the singer. He could feel Cas processing, thinking, and then-

"How are you going to have the time for that? Two jobs and school, and still sleeping every night?"

Dean didn't respond, he just bit his lip. It didn't take Cas very long to put it together.

"Are you dropping school?" His voice was almost a whisper, sounding worried, appalled and just plain sad, which was so much worse than it would have been if he had been angry about it. Dean mashed his teeth together and squeezed his eyes shut to ground himself.

"It'll be fine," He assured the singer, his voice surprisingly steady. "I wasn't going anywhere in life anyways. That's Sam," He joked, meeting his eyes and then instantly wishing he hadn't.

Cas just stared at him, looking pained, his lips parted slightly. Dean chewed on his lip and dropped his face, unable to look at the boy anymore. "It'll be okay." He wasn't sure if he was trying to convince Cas or himself. This would work.

Cas nodded slowly, dropping his eyes quickly and then bringing them back up. "Jimmy'll be sad."

"I'll visit him," Dean promised, and Cas nodded.

There was a pause, and neither of them said anything. Dean was almost glad. Cas wasn't getting mad, wasn't telling him that he could do better, that he didn't have to do this, that he was making a bad decision. It would have been worse if he did.

"You know I'm here for you if you need it, right?" Cas said quietly, grabbing Dean's wrist. Dean nodded, and Cas smiled, pressing his lips to his cheek. "Come on, let's sleep, okay?"

The Winchester nodded, and Cas pulled him down so they were cuddled together on the couch. Dean was smushed between Cas and the couch cushions, but it was okay. Cas pushed them together until their foreheads and noses brushed, and Dean couldn't see anything but Cas. Nothing but wide blue eyes in the darkness. It was a nice way to fall asleep.

.

…

.

Dean woke up alone, but the spot next to him was still warm. He burrowed his face into the pillow where Cas's head had been and breathed in, smelling the smell of the boy's shampoo. It smelled like cherries and flowers, which must have been why Cas always smelled faintly of cherries and poppies. Dean realized with a small smile that his own hair probably smelled like that, too.

He sat up and yawned, stretching out and fixing his shirt. He got to go back and spend today with Sam again. It was Sunday, which meant he had to make up an excuse for Sammy why he wasn't going to school the next day, or tell him flat out that he wasn't planning on returning. He knew that Sam would argue, but he also knew that once he brought up the money situation Sammy would have no arguments except, 'but you have to go to school, Dean.' And sure, Ellen might give him a disapproving speech, but who even-

_Ellen!_

Dean panicked. He hadn't told Ellen or Jo a thing. Not the crash, not the cancer, not Dad passing. He had completely forgotten. He gritted his teeth again-_god, it would be a miracle if his teeth survived this whole ordeal-_and took a deep breath through his nose. He would call tonight, when he was with Sam.

"Good morning, Dean," A deep voice said, and the Winchester looked up to see Lucifer standing there, holding a box of cereal. "Do you want some Fucking Frosted Flakes?"

Dean resisted the urge to laugh as he got up and followed the guy to the dining room. "Morning. Um, why are they fucking?"

Lucy laughed, handing Dean a bowl and the box. "It's a running joke in this house. Last time we went on tour we only had Frosted Flakes ad Froot Loops, and at one point the Froot Loops got thrown out the window by Samandriel, which is a story for a different time." Lucy poured himself some cereal and milk, stirring it together. "Anyways, then Castiel wanted cereal and he was looking for the Froot Loops but he couldn't find them and he asked Gabriel where they were and Gabriel just shouted, 'We only have FUCKING FROSTED FLAKES!' and Castiel just calmly said, 'Then please pass the Fucking Frosted Flakes,' and it stuck. I think we all liked the alliteration."

Dean laughed, vaguely proud of himself for being able to define alliteration-a phrases where all of the words started with the same letter or sound- and mumbled, "That's funny."

"Yeah, it was," Lucy nodded, munching on his cereal. "Are you staying for the band's practice today?"

Dean debated, but he decided that he had already been away from Sammy for too long. "Nah, I gotta get back to the hospital."

Lucy nodded, staring at his bowl. It was silent for a while, awkwardness hanging in the air. Finally Lucy said, "You know I know how you feel, right?"

Dean looked up, eyebrows raised.

"The whole," Lucy waved his spoon around. "Dad thing. Dad's been gone for years. I don't really remember him. It's the same for Castiel, you know."

Dean nodded, staring at his bowl. Lucy said softly, "He doesn't really like to talk about it."

Dean nodded again, and it was quiet again, but somehow without the awkwardness this time. Dean was kinda glad for it.

Cas walked into the room, dressed already. "I assume you want to go back to Sam, right, Dean?" He asked, and Dean nodded.

"Thanks for breakfast, Lucy," Dean said, and Lucifer grinned.

"You can call me Nick." Dean nodded, smiling a little bit, and then followed Cas from the room.

The drive was quiet, but it was okay. He didn't feel uncomfortable, and he didn't think that Cas did either. If anything, Cas was sad. Dean stared out his window, lost in thought about nothing in particular, which was better than having his mind stuck on one thing.

When they pulled up to the hospital and Dean turned his head to tell Cas thank you, the singer caught his face and sealed their lips together, making Dean's eyes slide shut and all thoughts of anything just melt out of his mind.

Cas pulled away after a moment and smiled. "Good luck, give me updates whenever you can, okay?"

Dean nodded. "Um… thanks, Cas." For dinner. For last night. For being there. For everything. But it all went unsaid.

Cas just smiled, as if he knew what Dean was thinking. "Any time, Dean. Really."

Dean managed to lift the corners of his mouth. He knew the boy meant it.

The walk up to Sam's room was a little bit colder than it usually was.

Sam was sitting up when Dean walked in, and a grin stretched across his face as soon as he saw his brother. "Dean!"

Dean couldn't help but smile as well. "Morning, Sammy. How was your night?"

Sammy shrugged, and Dean knew it wasn't very good. He quirked his mouth.

"Mr. Winchester," The doctor said, interrupting whatever Sam had just started to say. "Dean, why don't you sit down? Sam, you seem to be getting worse very fast. It's just beginning to spread, so if we get it out now, there's a good chance we can catch it before it makes it anywhere else. So we have you scheduled for surgery, finally. You go in tomorrow."

Sam's eyes widened. "Oh," he managed, and the doctor nodded.

"I know it's a lot. But then after about a week of recovery you can be discharged, but we'll be giving you Chemotherapy to make sure you stay NEC. And of course we'll continue to scan you and such, making sure there is no more Cancer in your body. We think you have a decent chance of coming out on top of this battle, Sam."

Sam looked like he was trying to not let himself get hopeful. Dean had to bite his tongue because that sucked. He didn't want his brother trying not to get hopeful about surviving this. Sam interrupted his thoughts with, "How are we paying for this?"

Dean opened his mouth, steeling himself, ready to spill about getting another job, but the doctor didn't even seem to notice Dean was about to speak. "Oh no, Sam, don't worry, it's all paid for."

Dean's mouth snapped shut and he stared at the doctor, feeling an emotion that could only really translate to about seven question marks all lined up together. "What?" Sam stuttered. His eyes flicked over Dean, who just shook his head.

"Yes, a man came in this morning. He claims to be your guardian, and he paid for everything that has already happened, and the surgery as well. I believe he's still in the lobby, do you want me to send him up to speak with you?"

Dean and Sam nodded simultaneously, and the doctor disappeared. The brothers looked to each other, at a loss.

"Who could it be?" Dean asked, completely baffled.

"Rufus?" Sam suggested.

Dean shook his head. "No way he has that much money. Do we even know any men? There's the Novaks, but I doubt it's them. Cas would have said something. There's…"

He couldn't even come up with anyone else. He looked at Sam, but the boy just shook his head and shrugged. It only took about three and a half minutes, and the door opened, a man striding in, confident and tall. The three of them stared at each other for about a half minute. Finally Dean broke the silence with, "Who the _fuck_ are you?"

…

.

**Well. Sorry the end of that chapter wasn't as great as the rest of it, it was a bit rushed. Also I'm late again, my bad. Been having a lot of stuff going on. Leave me some reviews! **

**Hugs and Kisses**

**-Sami**


	8. Chapter 8

**I missed a week, I know. (And on such a cliffhanger! :O sorry!) I had tech week and my grandmother went to the hospital so I've been a bit busy and distracted. I'm doing my best to keep up again, though! Enjoy the chapter :)**

.

…

"_Who the fuck are you?"_

The man smiled at Dean's question, but it didn't look amused or genuine. He looked like he was looking forwards to eating both of them alive. So Dean, trying not to be freaked out, repeated his question, this time standing up and getting between Sammy and the man. "I _said_, who the fuck are you?"

"Dean," Sam whispered, his voice shaky, and the older brother glanced back. Why did this man have Sam worked up? He just looked like a dick. "That's…"

"My name is Richard Roman," the man said in a voice that didn't look like it belonged to him while he tugged his shirtsleeves down by the cuff. "But you can call me Dick."

Dean stared at him. He had never seen pictures, never knew what he looked like. He had, however, heard a _lot_ of stuff about him, about his rise to power and his reign over the food companies and technology everywhere. Dean was willing to believe that they had Roman Enterprises running the whole country in one way or another.

"Why are you here?" Dean asked, completely confused. This was completely unexpected. Dean had been prepared to work for at least a year to pay for _just _the amount of money that Dick had just paid for in one day. Of course, this man probably had the money to pay for every operation for every kid dying of cancer- for every kid who _had _cancer all around the United States.

"I'm your guardian." Dick explained. "It's my duty to pay for medical expenses." The man went to go on, but Dean would have none of it.

"What do you mean you're our guardian? I'm eighteen. I don't know a guardian. I'm Sam's guardian, now that my dad is gone. I'm eighteen." Dean stressed.

"That's where you're wrong," Dick responded, which could have been phrased better, Dean thought. It sounded like the man was saying that he wasn't eighteen. The man pulled an envelope out of the inside pocket of his jacket. _Did he ever take his suit off?_ He pulled out the paper and flattened it, hanging it to Dean. "It's your father's will. He left you two to me, if he was to die before _both _of you were of age."

"I can take care of Sam myself," Dean growled, yanking the paper out of the man's hand and resisting the urge to punch him in the face. He scanned the paper, disbelief filling him as he realized that Dick was right. The words said it all_. Dean and Sam would be in the custody of Richard Roman if I am to die before Sam is eighteen._ And then at the bottom of the page was his dad's signature. His dad had actually written this. Why? Why hadn't he told them?

Richard narrowed his eyes. "You should be happy, Dean. I'm giving you everything you want. Now you don't have to drop school like you were going to. You don't have to pay for any of this. Of course… If you had worked for Roman Enterprises you wouldn't have had to drop school anyways. You would have been able to pay is right away."

"Why are you doing this?" Dean asked.

"You should work for me, Dean. And of course, Sam, you too, but once you're better."

Dean stared at the man, trying to figure out if he was serious. He couldn't decide if he was, but a glance back at Sam made him think that he might be. His brother was staring at the man; hope completely undisguised in his eyes. Though it was paired with thinly veiled disgust, it hit Dean like a sucker punch to the stomach. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't remember that last time Sam had looked at him like that.

So Dean did the only think he knew hot to do; he ran. Out his brother's door and down the hall. Just like he had been running from feelings and emotional shit and anger for the last four years, he ran from this. He knew he was going to have to go back sometime, but for now he could run and it would be okay.

He found himself in the hall right outside where his dad had been, and he pulled up short. This was bad. This brought back more bad shit, and Dean wanted nothing but to drown himself in something, anything, but there was nothing here. He spun around, planning to go somewhere new, but he slammed right into Dick, who must have been following him. He caught him by the shoulders and held him up, making him look up at the man. _Shit, he's tall. _

"Dean, listen. Don't worry about it, okay? Right now, your life isn't going to change. Keep going to school, keep taking care of Sam. I'll just drop by every once in a while; make sure you're doing okay, okay? Just focus on school and yourself right now, okay?"

Dean stared at the man. He couldn't sway his feeling of mistrust towards the man, but he realized all at once that he hadn't done a thing wrong yet. He was actually being really nice. He was paying for Sam's treatment, he wasn't even really asking for anything. So what was he getting out of it? Because there had to be something.

Dean narrowed his eyes a little bit, letting the distrust bubble to the surface. "What are you getting out of this?"

Dick smiled a little bit, but it wasn't the scary smile he had first smiled. "I'm not going to lie to you, Dean. You're an adult; I'm going to be truthful with you. A man like me, someone who runs practically everything, there's obviously rumors going around. Rumors I don't care about anything other than myself, anything except my business. Except I do, and I need someway to prove it, right?"

"You're going to use me and same for good press." Dean clarified, eyes locked on the man. He had to admit; it would help. Adopting and paying for a kid with cancer and keeping a high school reject in school. It would be amazing press.

"Not using you guys, Dean." Dick explained, sounding somehow sad. "Let's choose the word... Partners. And of course, I will take care of you two. We all win. I get rumors wiped, you get money and someone to take care of you."

Dean dropped his eyes to his toes. It did sound pretty good. Was this a dream? Didn't shit like this only ever happen in the movies? It didn't happen to people like Dean. "So... You'd want me to spread that you're taking care of us?"

Dick shrugged. "If you'd like. I'm sure you don't have to, it will get out anyways. I'd warn your friends though, I seem to be on every magazine cover, and I'm sure soon enough you will be too."

Dean nodded slowly. "Okay." He didn't even know what to think.

"Listen, go take care of your brother, Dean. He goes into surgery tomorrow. Focus on that. We can the three of us sit down after and talk about it."

Dean nodded again, and Dick grinned and slapped him on the shoulder. "That's my boy. Go talk to your brother, huh?"

.

...

.

Dean gritted his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut and his fists together. He curled his toes, trying to keep his foot from bouncing nervously. Sam had been in surgery for an hour already, and Dean was sweating bullets. He had things he could do, people he could call, but he couldn't even get himself to unclench his fists long enough to do so. He had the memory of Sam's arms around him, a hug that the younger brother had absolutely _insisted_ on, (holding him a little tighter than he might have before,) and he couldn't help but wonder if that was the last time his brother would ever be able to hug him back. There was a lump in his throat that wasn't going away.

He forced his fist open and grabbed his phone, ignoring his white knuckles, and he dialed Ellen's number. He had forgotten to call the night before, too caught up in talking to Sammy for what _couldn't _be the last time, and there he goes, thinking about it again-

"You've got the Roadhouse, how can I help you?"

"Jo?" Dean managed, feeling a million years old.

"Dean? What's up, buttercup?" She said chirpily, and Dean could hear music in the background. He couldn't do this to her. He couldn't tell her. This was going to crush her mood. This was going to crush _her. _

When Dean didn't say anything, Jo said, softer, "Dean? Are you okay?"

"Can I… Can I talk to your mom, Jo?"

"Okay," She mumbled, sounding hesitant, and there was a bit of rusting, and _"Here mom, it's Dean. It sounds kind of serious." _

"Dean?" Ellen said, sounding worried.

He hated this, and he ground his teeth together, wishing he was dead and he didn't have to do this. "Ellen, I have something to tell you and I probably should have called you earlier, but I forgot and I've been really busy and distracted and I…" Dean trailed off, completely at a loss for how to start.

"Okay," Ellen prompted.

"Are you sitting down?" Dean asked, more stalling than anything else.

"Spit it out, boy. Just start from the beginning, it's okay." She sounded just as fiery as she sounded caring, and Dean felt a warm spot in his chest for her. She was like what he pictured his mom might be like if she was still alive.

_The beginning… _"So… well my dad came home."

"Aw shit," He heard Ellen mumble, and he couldn't help but wonder how bad she thought it was. So he just plowed on.

"And he was in the Impala with Sammy and they got in a wreck, and uh, well they both ended up in the hospital," His voice cracked, but he just kept going. "And Dad was in a coma and Sam… S-Sam has c-cancer and-d," Dean racked with a sob, hating himself for crying but he couldn't hold it back. "And h-he's in surg-gery to get-t it removed ri-ight now and… And Dad's _d-dead_ and I just didn't know how to tell you and I'm so sorry," Dean rambled, stopping so he could rub his nose and try to wipe the tears out of his eyes. He couldn't hear anything on the other line, and he assumed it was because she was processing, but he couldn't stand the silence anymore, he thought he was going to explode, and he didn't know what to do at all.

"We'll be there in ten minutes," Ellen said, and Dean sniffed a little bit.

"Y-yeah okay." Dean nodded, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing the heel of his palms against them. Ellen made a brief affirmative noise, and then she hung up.

It wasn't even ten minutes, probably more like eight, by the time Jo was suddenly at his side with her arms wrapped around him and Ellen was pulling him off the chair so she could hug him too. They stood like that for a minute, just hugging, while people passed and time passed and carts passed and _nobody _told them to move, probably because almost all of them knew exactly what they were going through.

When they finally pulled away, Jo turned away and pressed her face into her shirt, as if she was pretending that she wasn't crying, but Ellen wasn't even trying to hide it. A tear slid down her face, bold and announced, as she ruffled Dean's hair.

"Have you eaten anything today?" She asked, and Dean shook his head. "Come on, we need to get some food in you."

.

…

.

Dean hardly touched his food, but he did eat a couple bites, which is more than he could say for Jo. She got a salad, but didn't eat a bite of it, looking too sick to eat. Dean understood where she was, though. He felt like he might lose the few bites that he did eat.

Ellen Jo and him walked slowly back to the OR, hands in pockets and talking in hushed voices. None of them knew what to talk about, so they talked about the weather and school and things that had nothing to do with the situation. It was a defense mechanism, protecting themselves from the constant fear that was following them around like a poisonous gas.

But eventually after a walk in the garden and around the whole building, there was nowhere else to go, so they just sat down in the hard plastic little chairs outside the operating room and tried not to pass out.

Dean was just actually falling asleep on Ellen's shoulder when a doctor appeared in front of him, and suddenly all traces of sleep were gone from Dean's body as he leapt to his feet, trying to read the doctor's straight face. An eyebrow twitch there, a eye flick there, but none of it meant anything. Really, Sam could be completely fine, or Sam could be dead.

Sam could be dead.

Blood roared in Dean's ears, and the world grayed a little bit. If Sam were dead, he wouldn't even know what to do with himself. Everything he did was for Sam. He existed because Sam existed. If Sam were gone, then Dean would be just as good plummeting off a bridge as he would anywhere else. And the doctor was opening his mouth and speaking and-

"It's good news," The doctor said, and Dean had a wave of relief so intense his knees went weak and he almost passed out. Ellen wrapped an arm around him to keep him standing, squeezing him once as if she knew. Life could continue. Everything was okay. "He's fine." The doctor continued, "And he's recovering. They took him through the back halls to his room. We believe we've gotten rid of all of the cancer, but we'll continue to give him scans and of course we'll begin Chemotherapy. It's just three pills a day, breakfast lunch and dinner…"

Dean listened to the doctor talk about Sam's Chemo as they walked through the hallway to Sam's room, but he hardly heard him through the blood rushing in his ears. He did catch the end though. "Sam's had a lot of painkillers and sleeping gas, so he'll be out for awhile, maybe a few hours. Then he'll be pretty out of it for a few days, due to the amount of painkillers he needs to be on to keep him from being in too much pain. A week from today we'll take the staples out and he'll be ready to go home in a week and a half. Sound okay?"

"Sounds okay," Dean agreed as they stopped at Sam's door. "Can I see him?"

The doctor opened his arm to invite them inside, and Dean was the first one through the door, his heart pounding, as if the doctor hadn't just told him that he was alright. And there he was, lying in the same wimpy little bed, his hospital gown open over his chest and two thick bandages taped over each of his pecs. His head was flopped to the side, and he looked paler than he had before. The bandage that had been over the cut on his head had been removed, and now Dean could see the nasty looking gash starting above his left eyebrow into his hairline about an inch. The machines beeped steadily, and he had tubes from at least three liquid bags taped into his arms.

The older Winchester collapsed into the chair next to his bed as Jo and Ellen picked chairs across the room to drag over. Dean dropped his head onto the bed, one hand sliding onto his brother's arm and holding on tight, as if he'd lose him if he let go. "It's okay." He whispered, repeating Cas's words from days ago. He might have been speaking to Sam, but he almost might have been talking to himself. "It's going to be okay."

.

…

**Not a cliffhanger this time xD **

**Viola! Let me know what you thought! Honestly, when I get a review I work a little bit harder to get the next chapter out early ;)**

**Thanks for reading it :)**

**Hugs and Kisses**

**-Sami**


	9. Chapter 9

**Late again, but here you guys go :3 its getting better :o less sad, less death :/ which is pretty good I guess. **

**Hope you enjoy! **

.

…

Getting Sam home was more hassle than Dean expected it to be. He refused to call Ellen or even Dick, and the impala was sitting in front of their house with a crushed up enough drivers' side that it was impossible to drive. Dean planned to fix her up as soon as he could. He had called the wreck yard and had them tow it to their house (thank god they hadn't smashed it yet,) on the day Sam got his staples removed. He had two incisions a few inches above each nipple, each dotted with staple marks, and red and inflamed and sore and gross. The doctor explained everything that he had to do, gave him everything he would need, and even set up their next appointment. Then Dean helped Sam outside to the taxi he had called and they drove home.

Sam walked about half speed, breathing hard and limping slightly. His hip had been hurt in the crash, but not enough that he couldn't walk on, just bruised enough that it hurt. Other than that the only worrying things were the gash on his forehead and the surgery scars. And he wore bandages on all of them. A simple band-aid for the forehead cut, "so as not to call attention," Sam explained, but pads of gauze taped to the surgery cuts under his shirt. It made his tees sit funny, so he wore the one sweatshirt that he owned.

Dean half lifted his brother into the house and onto the couch, and then hurried to turn on the heater. He hadn't been home in a few days and the whole house was freezing. He found a blanket for Sam and hurried to make him dinner.

"You don't have to do this," Sam protested, trying to get up, but Dean pushed him back down.

"You're recovering. So recover. I'll make the food." Dean insisted, turning on the TV and switching it to The Flash so Sam wouldn't be bored. As an afterthought he pulled the wastebasket over near him because the doctor mentioned that he might have nausea from the chemo and he might throw up. He had a whole list of side effects that Sam might experience, buried in the paperwork with Sam's pills on the end of the counter. He hadn't had a chance to look at it yet.

Sam was quiet for an episode and a half as Dean made pasta, the kind with the white sauce that was Sam's favorite, and a green salad with a lot of veggies. They had hardly been feeding Sam at all in the hospital, and he was getting skinnier and skinner. His cheekbones were actually becoming more prominent, and Dean worried that he was starving to death.

He handed Sam a tray with the pasta, salad, a big glass of water and a small dish with the pills he needed to take, and he settled down next to him with his own bowl.

"Oh my god, that smells amazing," Sam mumbled, and Dean agreed. "I've only had hospital food for so long."

He dug in, and Dean couldn't help his smile, but as he watched, his little brother slowed down really fast. Really, he only managed his pills and about four bites of each thing before he looked kind of sick.

"Are you okay?" Dean asked, worried. Was he going to throw up? His hand absent-mindedly twitched towards the wastebasket.

"Yeah, I am. Just..." He took a deep breath and swallowed a couple time. "Don't feel so good. I'm not really hungry."

Dean nodded slowly, hiding his disappointment. He couldn't help but feel a little hurt that he wasn't going to eat the dinner Dean made.

"I'm sorry Dean," Sam said, sounding sad, "but I just don't think I can eat too much anyways. I'm just kinda tired."

"You ready for bed?" Dean asked, checking the clock as he cleared Sam's tray. It was only 6:30. The older Winchester had a sudden feeling of lethargy and sadness. Were things ever going to be like they were before? _Probably not. _

Sam stretched and dragged himself off the couch. "Yeah, I guess." Dean ditched the dishes on the table to hurry over and help him down the hall. Even though he protested, Dean could tell he was grateful as he leaned heavily against his older brother.

"Do you want to shower, or would you rather do that in the morning?" Dean asked as they got to Sam's door.

"I'll do it in the morning," A yawn stretched across Sam's face, and he limped to his bed. Dean waited until he was sure he had made it to his bed to leave. He almost had the door closed when he heard Sam's voice. "School tomorrow?" He asked. "Can I go?"

The older Winchester hesitated. He didn't know if he was strong enough... "How about you leave at lunch? I don't think you should be walking all day."

"Yeah, alright," Sammy agreed. He almost sounded relieved and Dean tried not to be frustrated that he hadn't just asked for what he wanted. He needed to start doing that.

"Okay, see you in the morning, Sammy," Dean tried a smile and then closed the door. It probably looked like a grimace, but he tried, and hopefully Sammy appreciated that.

He wandered back out and finished the episode and his dinner, lazy on the couch. It had been awhile since he felt comfortable with the fact that he was at home. He allowed himself to worry a bit about Sam as he cleaned up the dishes, put everything away and washed the dishes. How was he going to handle this? Because with different people it could be different. If Sam handled it well it wouldn't be so bad. Sure he might throw up a couple times and maybe get mouth sores and not eat too much, but it could be okay. Dean tried to convince himself that it would be okay.

_Buzz buzz._

Dean glanced at his phone, which was sitting on the table, lit up. No one texted him except Sammy. Why would Sammy be texting him? Was he okay? What if he couldn't shout for him? What if-?

_New message from Blue Eyes White Dragon._ It was Cas.

The panic fell away as he opened the message. It was quickly replaced with confusion, though. Cas didn't text him very often, usually he just called.

_You are home from the hospital, right? Is it okay if I come over? _

Dean hesitated. That wouldn't be bad, sounded pretty nice, actually. _Sam's asleep._ He typed. _gotta be quiet. but u could if u wanted. why?_

Cas's response was quick; Dean had barely put the phone down before it was buzzing again. _I don't really want to be at home right now. I'll be there in five minutes. _

Dean didn't respond, didn't think it would be necessary. He got himself a glass and his bottle of whiskey and poured himself a large glass, putting the bottle away so he wouldn't drink more than just that. Then he turned on the stereo, on low, and started to lie back on the couch to relax, picturing Cas knocking on the door to come hang out with him.

It hit him suddenly, and with a fiery burning passion. He didn't want Cas to have to knock. He wanted Cas to be able to walk in and just be there, maybe before Dean even was, like he belonged. Like he fit in. Like he was a Winchester.

Dean pushed himself up and stared at the stereo as it scanned words that he couldn't read. This was too much. Too intense. It was too much. Dean was used to running from things like this. But how come then, when Cas was around, it felt so... Nice? Right? Dean didn't have a word for it. Warm. Safe. They were all good, but none of them perfect. There was a word twitching on the edge of his mind, but something told him he might not like it, so he pushed it away.

There was a knock on the door, and Dean pushed himself up and answered it with an easy smile on his face. "Hey," he said.

"Hello Dean," Cas responded, smiling and visibly relaxing. "Can I come in?"

"Sure. Mi cama es tu cama."

Cas had just stepped in the door, and he barked out a laugh, slapping a hand over his mouth quickly. When Dean have him a questioning look, Cas chuckled, "Dean, home is casa. Cama is bed."

Dean felt his face heat, and he tried to cover it up with a choked out, "Oh, uh, yeah, that too," but he failed miserably and Cas doubled over laughing into his hand, trying to keep himself quiet.

"Shh," Dean laughed, his face still as red as a tomato, "You'll wake Sam up."

Dean turned to head to the couch, but Cas grabbed him around the waist, spun him around and crowed him up against the wall, grinding their hips together and pinning him there. Dean gasped at the sudden pressure. "Is your bed my bed too, Dean?" He whispered huskily in Dean's ear, and the Winchester shivered.

Cas bit at his ear, but before Dean could retaliate he pulled away and grinned. "Dance with me?"

Dean listened to the song, hoping for something that they could dance fast to, something hot. But he heard,

_Here's to you and me _

_And in between _

_We draw a line_

_But we can't see_

_Where it's been_

_We scratch our heads_

_And race against_

The heart's content

Cas grinned again and grabbed Dean's hand; spinning him once and pulling them flush together. He wrapped an arm around Dean's back and laced the fingers of his opposite hand with Dean's. Dean found his left arm bent up in between them, resting on Cas's chest.

"Why am I the girl?" Dean muttered, but Cas caught his own bottom lip between his teeth, and Dean was suddenly distracted staring at his mouth. Cas chuckled darkly and began to sway them to the soft music from the stereo.

_Maybe we hurt_

_Who we love the most_

_Maybe it's all we can stand_

_Maybe we walk through the world as ghosts_

_Break my own heart before you can_

Dean leaned his head on Cas's shoulder, closing his eyes and letting the singer rock them back and forth, their feet shifting only a little bit. "S'nice," Cas whispered, and Dean made a noise of agreement. Cas began to him along with the song, and Dean could hear it in his chest. It was nice.

_Here's you and me_

_And in between_

_We draw a line_

_But we can't see_

_Where it's been_

_We scratch our heads_

_And race against_

_The heart's content_

Cas pulled away and spun him once, practically knocking him off balance, but then pulling him back to his chest and chuckling quietly as Dean tried to catch himself and just ended up plastered all over Cas's chest. He laughed, trying to keep himself quiet.

_Maybe we know how the story ends_

_Maybe it's not even about us_

_We both retreat to opposing sands_

_And the love lives on without us_

_One thing I know for sure is_

_Love will find a way_

_Love will find a way_

They righted themselves and began to dance again, slow stepping and staring at each other with lazy grins. This was a lot. Maybe too much, but Dean couldn't bring himself to care. He was allowing himself to be happy.

Here's you and me

_And in between_

_We draw a line_

_But we can't see_

_Where it's been_

_We scratch our heads_

_And race against_

_The heart's content_

Cas touched his forehead to Dean's, closing his eyes, which Dean was a little bit sad about. The big blue orbs disappeared from his sight, so he figured he had no reason to keep his own open, so he allowed them to slide shut. They swayed slowly to the end of the song, and it was nice. Dean tried to convince himself that nice was okay.

Oh-oh oho o-oh

_You and me_

_Oh-oh oho o-oh_

_You and me_

_Oh-oh oho o-oh_

_You and me _

_Oh-oh oho o-oh oh yeah._

The song ended, but neither of them made any effort to move. There was a moment of comfortable silence and they continued to sway, their foreheads pressed together. Dean missed seeing his favorite shade of blue, but he also was content with this. The next song began, a live version of Villagers's song _Nothing Arrived, _but before the lead could even start singing Dean got a tingle in his face and he pushed forwards to touch his lips to Cas's. It wasn't rushed, wasn't hot and heavy like most of their stuff had been, just a small dry press of lips against lips, and it made something in Dean's chest flutter.

Cas gathered the Winchester up in his arms and held him close, kissing him slowly and shallowly. Dean couldn't even bring himself to try and press in further and get more. He was content with this. He was content just feeling Cas's warm lips against his own.

Dean didn't hear a word of the song, but when it ended Cas pulled away with a little smile on his face. "Do you want to watch a movie?"

.

…

.

They put a movie in, but they didn't watch it. Instead they squished together on the couch and talked. Cas suddenly turned into an octopus, which was unexpected but not unwelcome, pushing his legs into Dean's space and dragging his arms around him. _Octo-Cas_, he thought to himself with a smile.

They talked about music, and about food and photography and books and poetry. Dean talked about his family because he felt like Cas had a right to know, and Cas talked about tours.

"We've only been on two," He explained, "But they're amazing. I don't think I've ever had that much fun in my life. Playing live is… just…" He searched for a word, his hands grasping at air. "Just…. Fantastic. God. I just. There's really nothing like it."

Dean grinned. "When's your next tour?"

Cas's smile fell off his face. "Oh. Well we got scheduled to go in like… three weeks, for two weeks, but we can't go."

A frown took over Dean's face. "Why not?"

Cas looked a little sheepish. "It's the van. Our agent doesn't think it'll hold up, and it's not like we can go to a repairman every time it breaks down. And we don't have the money for a new van, since Naomi wont fund it."

Dean's eyebrows rose as an impossible thought struck him. He shoved it from his mind. It would be ridiculous. He couldn't go with them, not on a tour…

The same thought seemed to hit Cas as it hit Dean, and he felt the musician's fingers tighten on his arm. "Oh my god, Dean," He breathed, "You could come. And just fix the car every time it broke down, which might not even be ever, but then our agent would let us go, and it would be great you could come backstage to all of the concerts and then we could actually go, and… Dean? What's wrong?"

He hadn't thought that the pain would be that evident on his face, but maybe it was. Cas raised a hand to Dean's cheek and frowned a little bit. "What, Dean?" He said quietly.

"Sammy," Was the only thing that Dean could say. He dropped his eyes to his hands. "I can't just… he couldn't walk by himself today. I can't just leave him."

"You're fucking kidding me."

Dean's eyes shot up, wide, because that was a really weird thing for Cas to say, but it _wasn't _Cas, because Cas was looking around behind him at someone in the doorway, and Dean twisted-

"You're going to pass up going on a _tour _with _Novak_ to _take care of me?_" Sam demanded, from his vantage point of the doorway, where he was leaning heavily on the frame.

"Sam, I can't just leave you," Dean began, pushing himself up a little bit and a couple inches away from Cas. "You wouldn't-"

"I'm sure I could find a place to stay, Dean," Sam said dryly. "You're not going to miss this opportunity because of me," He said, insistent on it. "Cas, ask your agent if Dean can go, and then you guys can go. Dean, stop complaining. Okay? Great. Now both of you need to be quiet so I can get some stupid rest in this tiny house."

Cas grinned at the younger boy, and he smacked the back of Dean's head. "Yeah, Dean, be quiet."

Dean couldn't help but smile a little bit. Maybe this was actually going to happen?

.

…

.

School was a nightmare. Dean hated the people staring at them, and Sam hated it even more. Dean had to help Sam limp to every one of his classes, which meant he had to run from his own so his little brother wouldn't be stranded. "I swear," Dean huffed out a laugh, trying to catch his breath as he wound an arm around Sam's waist to keep him up. "We should get you a wheelchair or something."

Sam just shook his head and dropped his eyes from a girl who was watching them go by.

Lunch came slower than anything, and when the bell finally rang to let them out, Dean could feel his body deflate with relief. Now he just had to get his little brother home.

They limped across the campus, and Sam sighed as yet another person asked if he was okay. "Fine," He gritted out through his teeth, and he turned his face forward. Dean felt a pang of sadness. Sammy was _fifteen; _this was awful. No one should have to go through this, much less go through it as young as fifteen.

"Can we go home now?" Sam asked quietly, his eyes trained on his feet.

"Yeah, yeah we can." Dean said back, nodding. "Let's just get you out of here."

Dean realized the problem when they reached the parking lot, they didn't have a way home. They had caught a ride with Gabriel and Samandriel and Jimmy on the way to school, and now they had no way to get home.

Dean sighed, and pulled out his phone. Maybe Cas could give them a ride? He dialed the singer's number, but he didn't pick up. Dean gritted his teeth and ran a hand through his hair as Sam leaned heavily against the railing by the gate, his eyes intent on staying glued to his toes.

"You guys looking for something?" A voice said, and Dean turned around.

"Jimmy," He greeted the boy, and Jimmy nodded at him. "Actually we were going to head home, Sam's had about enough today. But we don't have a ride."

"Oh, I could drive you home real quick," The boy offered, holding out a hand. "If you wanted."

"That would be great," Dean breathed, and Jimmy grinned.

"Come on, our piece of shit is this way," Jimmy's feet made no sound on the asphalt as he headed towards the car, leaving Dean to held Sam off the curb and after him. Jimmy had the door open when they got there, and Dean carefully loaded his brother inside, and then jumped in the back. "Next stop, Casa de Winchester," Jimmy grinned as he started the car.

It rumbled along below them, and Dean missed the purr of his own car. Maybe he could start working on it today, when they got home. He certainly had enough time on his hands. Cas was supposed to let them know if Dean could go on the tour that night, no late than eight. That left him about seven hours, if you didn't count the time he would be helping Sam and making dinner and such. He was a little more excited to go home now that he had a job, and he sat up a little straighter in his seat.

When they pulled up to their house, Jimmy wished them good luck and Dean practically lifted Sam out of the car, and they headed up the walk. Sam was panting hard by now, one of his hands pressed to his chest.

"Are you alright?" Dean asked, and Sam gritted his teeth and tried to nod, but he was covered in sweat and his eyes shined with tears. "Oh my god. What's wrong? Dean demanded as he pulled him to the couch and sat on the coffee table so he could look at him. "Where does it hurt? Tell me where it hurts."

Sam bent at the waist, clutching his chest and taking deep breaths. "It's okay. I'm okay," He gasped, but Dean wouldn't have it. He pulled his little brother's hand from his chest and pulled his jacket up over his head, which caught a little on his hair and pulled it into disarray, but he didn't care. Next, shirt. Sam had to help him with that one, stretching his arms back so it would come off. But then he had it off, and Dean sucked a breath through his teeth.

The bandage on Sam's left was completely soaked through with blood, and as Dean carefully removed it, Sam gasped in pain. "Dean," He coughed. "It hurts so bad."

"I think you might have ripped it a little bit," Dean said, trying to take deep breaths. "I'm going to get the first aid kit. Don't move a muscle, okay?"

Sam nodded, and Dean ran for the kit, panicking a little bit. Sam could actually bleed out if he didn't handle this right. His breathing sped up again, and he scrambled around in the bathroom to get the kit. He finally found it, and he ran back for Sam, who was sitting with his fists clenched on his knees.

Dean found the gauze and carefully mopped up the excess blood, wincing when Sam hissed in pain, but continuing nonetheless. He needed it get it cleaned up. When there was less blood and you could see the cut, Dean folded up a cotton bandage and pressed it against the wound, holding Sammy's hand there and telling him to keep the pressure on it. He nodded and didn't move again as Dean cleaned up the dirty bandages and made a new one to tape onto him. He moved quickly and stutter-y, his feet catching up on the floors and trying to keep him inefficient. He could hardly catch his breath, and his ears rang.

"I think it's done bleeding," Sam said as Dean sat down on the coffee table again, handing him a glass of water. The younger brother took it and drank gratefully. Dean peeled the gauze away and pressed the bandage on instead, sealing the tape to his skin and sighing in relief as it didn't instantly soak through.

"How does it feel?" Dean asked, and Sam shrugged weakly.

"Better, I guess," He rasped. "I'm exhausted. Can I take a nap?"

The coffee table creaked as Dean stood up, nodding. "Yeah. But how about on the couch? I don't want you to move."

Sam nodded, his eyelids drooping. Dean grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch and tossed it over him, taking his school bag to his room. By the time he was back, Sammy was breathing deeply and slowly. _Wow, _Dean can't help but think. _He must have been exhausted. _

Dean makes himself soup and then makes a smaller portion for Sammy, leaving it on the stove so it would stay warm for when the boy wakes up. Then he settled on the loveseat with his headphones on, facing the room so he could see just past the couch where Sammy was sleeping into the kitchen and see the pot on the stove just in case, and the door by the couch. He didn't dare turn his music up too loud-he could still hear every single thing-just in case. But that didn't mean that he couldn't hear Cas's voice in his ears.

It turned out to be a good thing he was a little paranoid when he heard a car door shut outside, and, confused, he pushed himself up sitting, pulling his headphones down around his neck, pausing his music. He held still to listen outside, and after a moment he realized he could hear footsteps on the walk outside. Then the porch, then-

_Knock knock knock. _

Dean leapt to his feet and ran for the door before they could knock louder, yanking it open with a finger to his lips.

Dick's eyebrows rose to his hairline, and Dean lowered his. Why was he-_oh right. He said he was going to check in. _

"Sammy's sleeping on the couch," Dean whispered, looking at the boy. He hadn't woken up. Dick nodded, seemingly understanding. He held up a bag.

Dick kept his voice quiet as he opened the bag and showed Dean the contents. "I brought you guys some clothes. I talked to Sam when you guys were still at the hospital and he talked about only having one hoodie. So I got him a couple more, and I brought bandages."

"What's this?" Dean asked, pulling a little book from the bag. It was black leather, with a tie shut, a loop for a pen or pencil, and a little ribbon to mark pages. When Dean opened it, all of the pages were blank. He ran his fingers over the pages, they were thick and heavy duty. They would hold up really well. "A sketchbook?"

Dick nodded. "I noticed you doodling and writing on napkins at the hospital, and figured you might put good use to this."

Dean stared at the book in his hands, and then at the man. Really? That was the nicest thing anyone had done for him in… Dean couldn't even think of a time when someone had noticed something like that and done something so personal about it. In that moment, he found himself trusting this man a little bit more. He wasn't doing this _only _for press, he was actually trying to care for the two Winchesters the best he could as well.

"Thank you," Dean said, flushing a little bit when his voice cracked. Dick grinned and patted him on the shoulder.

"Where can I put this bag?"

"The table in the kitchen is fine," Dean said, flipping the book over and over in his hands as he stepped out of the way to let the man past.

Dick dropped the bag off, and turned around, his mouth opening to say something else, but right then Dean's phone went off.

"Oh, sorry," He mumbled, pulling it from his pocket to silence it. _Incoming call from Blue Eyes White Dragon. _"Oh!" He gasped, "Hold on a second." He juggled the phone and the book to get it to his right hand and then tapped madly at the screen, quickly lifting it to his ear. "Cas?"

"Dean!"

"What did your agent say?" Dean asked breathlessly, staring at Dick's feet. He had nice shoes on.

"Dean, he said yes!" Cas laughed, and Dean's heart just about stopped beating. "He said yes and Naomi said yes, which I can't believe, but Dean, we're going on tour! We're going on tour! We leave on the eighth of February. Come home on the twenty-second. It's a Sunday to a Sunday. We have seven shows, one every other day. Dean, we're playing in _New York." _Cas sounded like he was hyperventilating, and it seemed like Dean might be as well. "I haven't told the others yet. I was waiting to see if you were really okay with it."

Dean's eyes came up to the man in his kitchen, realizing suddenly that he had a _guardian, _and he should probably ask the man before he disappeared for two weeks on a tour around the damned United States. Dick looked confused; his head tilted a bit to the side. "Cas, can you hold on a second?"

"Yeah, sure."

Dean put the phone on mute and set it on the table. "Uh, so… I've kind of been asked to go on tour with Novak, you know, the band, and they can't go without me because they need someone who can fix their van every time it goes down… And uh… well I mean I really want to go, and they're going for two weeks in February… And I guess I just figured I'd ask you if it was okay." This was weird. Dean hadn't had to ask for permission to do something in a long time.

Dick furrowed his eyebrows. "You want to go on tour with Novak?"

Dean nodded, swallowing.

"And they can't go unless you do?"

Dean shook his head. "They didn't want to have to pay for a real mechanic."

Dick debated for a moment, and then said, "What about Sam?"

Dean's heart sunk a little bit. "I mean we could probably find somewhere he could stay. He has a bunch of friends, or he could stay with Jo and Ellen, or I mean he might be able to stay with you or something, because I didn't want to drag him across the country when he's this sick…"

Dick smiled. "That's nice. Thank you for asking me, Dean. Sure, you can go."

All of the breath was sucked from his lungs as he realized what he had said. "Really?"

He grinned again, which was creepy, but Dean was starting to figure that maybe he just had a creepy looking smile. "Yeah. Go tell your friend, I'm going to head home for the night. We can talk details later, alright?"

"Alright," Dean breathed, and the man patted him on the shoulder and left the house. Dean scrambled for his phone and un-muted it, slamming it to his ear. "Cas? Cas?"

"Yeah?" The boy's voice rang.

"I can go. We can go. We're going on tour."

.

…

**Well! Dean's gonna have some fun ;)  
>Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Sorry I was late again. Since the next chapter will likely be longer than the rest, I'll end up spending a lot of time on it. Don't expect it this Sunday, give me another week to make sure it's great. :)<strong>

**Let me know what you thought! Reviews are like food to me. **

**Hugs and kisses!**

**-Sami**


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